m 
 
FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 INvMoa " S 
 
 C ■ ^ 
 
909-1709 
 
 
 ils filled by a favoringr breeze, sailed over 
 ae bar and out into the ocean, bound lor 
 Tew York, with the apostle of the new 
 lith on board. 
 
 Murray soon returned to the home of his 
 riend and remained there several months, 
 ■ reaching In the meeting house every Sun- 
 ay. Later he took a trip to New Eng- 
 md, where he founded, and for many 
 ears remained pastor of, a church in 
 loucester, Mass.— the first organized Uni- 
 ersalist Church In America. It was at 
 Gloucester, in 1870, that the Murray Cen- 
 bnnlal was celebrated, more than 17,000 
 :3ople being present, including most of the 
 U'orninent men of the denomination, con- 
 ■ iuous among them being Horace Gree- 
 and his famous pastor, the Rev. Dr. 
 IWIn H. Chapin, besides numerous other 
 uci of nearly equkl note. 
 -•I Tlie Memorial Cliurcli. 
 
 •O'ter Potter's death it vras found that 
 'i'^ meeting house, together with several 
 *^s of adjacent land, had been deeded 
 ^Murray, but in the absence of the lega- 
 ^00(the property was seized and sold for 
 "Uo satisfy an alleged claim on the es- 
 PI'. Its successor, a small frame build- 
 ^® partially constructed of the old ma- 
 1, is now In the hands of the Meth- 
 
 ^^Us. Near at hand is a handsome Gothic 
 
 "^pel of pressed brick; erected by the 
 
 "^ versalists of America and dedicated In 
 
 ^ as the Potter Memorial Church. It 
 
 ^Sn the lawn in front of this church 
 
 ^1^^.^.^^ memorial has been erected. A 
 
 / • ^--^--i rvwned and man- 
 
 ^ -'-^Hon, 
 
 *ju9iiioi;;os JO ss9oojd ui avou soi^jQdojd' 
 puB '-IS p^ojg q;jojs[ gn P^^ III P^^ mnoS;^ 
 '8e '9£ *te '01 -'IS WP^l ^l^OM OZ -'IS Wi 
 m^\R m-^ON 01^ P^^ l£ -'s^S l-i^qilJ Pu^ ^Juri 
 t'ls mqSiH WON 01^ Pu^ m^^S LZZ P^^ ZZ '9 \\ 
 
 nZT DUB QTT 'OTT i *l!s IlUnO^^ mHOg 9£l ty 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 xtmhx d WinxbtxsRl Sanation* 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 WITH A CONTINUATION, BY MRS. JUDITH SARGENT MURRAY. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, 
 
 "^iVTTH Aisr i:isrTRor>xjCTio:x A:N"r> iStotes, 
 
 By rev. g. l. demarest. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 UNIVERSALIST PUBLISHING HOUSE, 
 
 18%. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by the 
 
 UxiVERSALisT Publishing House, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of MassachusettH 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction 8 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An account of the author's birth and parentage, with succeeding event* 
 until the decease of his father 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Record continued until the author's departure from Ireland . . • 70 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Arrivalin England, and further progress of the in€a?peri€ncedfrat;cZZer . 101 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The author becomes a happy husband, a happy father. He embraces the 
 " truth, as it is in Jesus, ^^ and from this and other combining causes he 
 is involved in great difficulties. Death deprives him of his infant son 
 and wedded friend, and he is overtaken by a series of calamities . . *43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The bereaved man, quitting his native shores, embarks for America, in- 
 dulging the fond hope of sequestering himself in the solitude for which 
 he sighed. But, contrary to his expectations, a series of circumstances 
 unite to make him a promulgator of the gospel of God our Saviour . l?fi 
 
 Til 
 
rV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Record continued from September, 1770, to the winter of 1774 . . . 213 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Summary record of events from January, 1775, to October, 1809 . . .311 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1815, including the 
 
 vlosing scene .371 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Conclusion ..380 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Portrait of Rev. John Murray , . . t 
 
 The Potter Meeting House 206 
 
 First Church in Gloucester 314 
 
 First Church in Boston 338 
 
 The Grave «f Murray .... .••... 405 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The original edition of the following work appeared in 
 8vo, in the year 1816. The interest of the work secured 
 for it a rapid sale, and demanded frequent republication. 
 Several editions appeared before 1833, in which 3^ear Rev. 
 Thomas Whittemore reproduced it, with annotations and 
 additions, in letter-press, and a stereotype edition was also 
 published, under the editorial care of Rev. L. S. Everett. 
 The former edition was soon exhausted ; the latter continued 
 to supply a steady demand until within a few j^ears, when 
 by a mistaken, perhaps fortunate, judgment, the plates 
 were broken up, sold as old t^^pe-metal, and cast into the 
 melting-pot. Both of the last-named editions were com- 
 pactl}^ printed to secure cheapness. It is peculiarly meet 
 that an edition worthy of the subject should now appear 
 on the eve of the centenary of American Universalism, 
 which dates historically from the appearance of the provi- 
 dential man the story of whose life is here related. 
 
 The basis of this edition is that of Mr. Whittemore. 
 In his preface, he says : " I flatter myself that the various 
 emendations which I have made will enhance the value of 
 the work to the public. In some cases I have supplied 
 dates where they were wanting ; in some I liave given the 
 full name for the initials, and made other alterations of a 
 like character. But the text, with a few verbal excep- 
 
b INTRODUCTION, 
 
 tions, is preserved as it was in the original edition. . . . 
 I have endeavored, also, to enhance the value of the work 
 by the addition of a large body of notes. I had many 
 facts in my possession, belonging clearl}^ to the biography 
 of Mr. Murray, that had not been incorporated into, his 
 'Letters and Sketches,' nor into an}' edition of his 'Life.'" 
 Such of Mr. Whittemore's notes and additions as were 
 contributions to the biography of the subject we have re- 
 tained ; others we have rejected, not for lack of interest, 
 but for want of room and appropriateness. We have also 
 omitted several documentary items which were not need- 
 ful to the general purpose of the biography. And we may 
 state here that the pictures, in this volume, of the churches 
 associated with Mr. Murra3^'s life, are perfect representa- 
 tions of the originals, even to the details, and can be 
 relied upon as historically correct. 
 
 It will be observed that the first six chapters of the 
 volume are autobiographical. In Mr. Whittemore's words, 
 "The seventh, eighth, and ninth chapters of the work 
 were written by Mr. Murray's widow, a woman of unques- 
 tioned talent. Her disposition in regard to the things of 
 this world was altogether different from his ; nor was she 
 able to suppress, a lamentation, which appears in the 
 seventh chapter, that he did not avail himself of the 
 opportunities oflfered him to accumulate wealth. She 
 removed several 3'ears since, with au only daughter and a 
 griindcliild, to one of the south-western States. They are 
 now all deceased ; and not a descendant of Mr. Mur- 
 ra}' is on the earth." It was evidenth' by Mrs. Murra3''s 
 '' earnest solicitations," that the autobiography was under- 
 taken. We quote her original preface, which boars date 
 May 2, 1816 : '' The pages which compose the volume now 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 presented to the public, were originally designed only for 
 the eye of a tender and beloved friend. They were 
 written at the earnest request of one to whom the author 
 was endeared by many years of intimate friendship, and 
 still more by those divine and soul-soothing tenets, of 
 which it was his distinguished lot to be ordained the pro- 
 mulgator. For those, who, like this individual, have 
 dwelt with rapture upon the blessed assurance of the 
 boundless and enduring love of a redeeming God, as pow- 
 erfully exhibited hy those lips which rarely opened but to 
 expatiate upon the glad tidings which was the theme of 
 the angelic song ; for those who loved the philanthropic, 
 the inspired preacher, for the sake of the glorious inspira- 
 tion, — these sheets will possess the strongest and most 
 important interest ; to such, and to such only, they are 
 addressed. It is in compliance with their solicitations 
 that they are sent into the world ; and it is not even ex- 
 pected that those who turned a deaf ear to his consolatory 
 message, and who knew not the powers of his mighty 
 mind, or the pure and exalted benevolence of his heart, 
 will have any interest in inquiring, ' What manner of man 
 was he who told these things, or what spirit was he of? ' " 
 
 Mr. Murray narrates in detail the circumstances of his 
 first marriage and of his bereavement. To the second, 
 Mrs. Murra}' only thus incidentally alludes, at the time 
 she notices the considerations which induced the removal 
 from Gloucester to Boston : " He had himself again be- 
 come the head of a family." In the " United States 
 Chronicle," of October 16, 1788, appeared the following 
 notice: "Married, at Salem, Mass., October — , 1788, 
 Mr. John Murray, of Gloucester, Pastor of the Universal 
 Society there, to Mrs. Judith Stevens, of that place." 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Mrs. Stevens was the daughter of Capt. Winthrop Sar- 
 gent, one of Mr. Murray's stanchest Gloucester friends. 
 Her literary gifts were, for the time, distinguished ; and 
 the very traditions which suggest her strength of will and 
 energetic character also indicate her deep affection and 
 profound veneration for her husband, and her earnest in- 
 terest in the doctrines which he preached and she had cor- 
 dially adopted. Mr. Murray — if we can judge by his 
 confidential letters to English correspondents, not merely 
 by occasional expressions, but by the frequency and extent 
 of his allusions — reciprocated her love, and took pride in 
 her gifts. Mr. Whittemore's allusion to her "disposition," 
 already quoted, suggests her needful counterpoise to her 
 husband's disregard of all financial considerations ; not 
 serving to destroy Mr. Murray's liberal feeling, or even 
 indicating her own want of generosity, but securing due 
 prudence in the famil}^ economj^, and in all probability 
 aiding in keeping "the wolf" at bay during the long 
 season of Mr. Murray's helplessness. 
 
 While we are interested in the traditions which give 
 glimpses of Mrs. Murra3^'s disposition to rule, and her 
 strength of purpose, we infer from what we know of her 
 the possession of strong affectional magnetism, as well ag 
 of masculine energy and intellect. She was a faithful 
 wife and a help truly meet for Mr. Murray. The incident 
 related in Mr. Whittemore's "Life of Rev. Hosea Ballou," 
 suggests her earnest reverence for her husband's faith and 
 opinions. Mr. Ballou had been preaching during Mr. 
 Murray's absence, in Philadelphia, in 1798 or 1799, from 
 the pulpit of the latter. On the last Sunday of his en- 
 gagement he gave his views of 1 Cor. xv. 26-28, present- 
 ii.<2^ the evident doctrine of the text, that Christ is the 
 
lyTRODUCTION. » 
 
 Son who is to deliver up tlie kingdom to God the Father. 
 Mrs. Murray, and Mr. Murray, too, believed, we think 
 ver}' absnrdl3\ "that the Son who is to deliver up the 
 kingdom to the Father was the ' Son of perdition,' and 
 that God would finally succeed in getting the kingdom out 
 of his hands." Through Mrs. Murray's suggestion, '-Just 
 as Mr. Ballon arose to announce the lu'mn," a gentleman 
 announced from the singing-seats '' in substance as fol- 
 lows ; ' I wish to give notice that the doctrine which has 
 been preached here this afternoon is not the doctrine which 
 is usually preached in this house.'" Mr. Ballou's reply, 
 3'oung as he was, was characteristically calm: "The 
 audience will please to take notice of what our brother 
 has said;" and he proceeded to close the services. Mrs. 
 Murray may have been, as Mr. Whittemore says, " an 
 uneasy spirit ; " but we confess we respect her conjugal 
 consideration and her spii'itual earnestness, if not her 
 uneasiness. 
 
 We have before us a work in three volumes, bearing the 
 imprint, " Printed at Boston, b^^ I. Thomas and E. T. An- 
 drews, Faust's Statue, No. 45 Newbury Street, February, 
 1798," entitled " The Gleaner : a Miscellaneous Produc- 
 tion, by Constantia." The volumes are a collection of 
 assays, a portion of which were first contributed to a 
 monthl}^ mngnzine, and for the purpose of tliis publica- 
 tion were supplemented by essays of like character. " Con- 
 stantia" w^as Mrs. Murray. Her volumes were published 
 by subscription ; and after the method of the last centur}' 
 the names of subscribers appear as an appendix to the last 
 volume. Mrs. ^Mui-ra}' had evidently acquired reputation 
 b}' her published essays ; for the number of subscribers ob- 
 tained before publication exceeds eight hundred. These 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 include many notable names: "George Washington, late 
 Commander-in-Chief of the American Forces, and President 
 of the United States, Mount Vernon (Virg.) " with Mrs. 
 M. Washington ; " John Adams, LL.D., President of the 
 United States ; " Increase Sumner, Governor of Massachu- 
 setts ; John Taj'lor Gilman, Governor of New Hampshire ; 
 Gen. Knox ; Gen. Lincoln ; Rev. Dr. Belknap, Dr. Clarke, 
 Dr. Eliot, Mr. Freeman, Dr. Howard, Mr. Kirkland, Dr. 
 Lathrop, Dr. Morse, Dr. Thatcher, and other clergymen ; 
 " Capt. W. H. Harrison, N. W. Territory ; " and others 
 prominent not only in their day, but leaving some trace 
 upon the history of our land. Mrs. Murraj-'s style par- 
 takes of the peculiarities of the time in which she wrote ; 
 but she exhibits both thought and descriptive power and 
 grace. With some magniloquence is combined an attrac- 
 tive smoothness, which even now makes the reading pleas- 
 ant. We meet suggestions, in advance of the da}^, as to 
 imprisonment for debt, the equal capabilities of the sexes, 
 etc. 
 
 The fact may be interesting, in addition to that stated 
 above, concerning the descendants of Mr. and Mrs. Murray, 
 that Mr. AVinthrop Sargent, of Philadelphia, is a grandson 
 of Mrs. Murray's father, and consequent!}^ her nephew ; 
 while Dr. Worcester, of Salem, is, through his mother, 
 Capt. Sargent's great grandson. Mrs. Sargent, Mrs. Mur- 
 ray's mother, died in July, 1793 ; Capt. Sargent, in Decem- 
 ber of the same j^ear. 
 
 With reference to the autobiographical portion of this 
 volume, Mr. Whittemore aptly says : " In perusing the 
 following pages, the reader should bear continually in rec- 
 ollection, that Mr. Murray was a man of warm and ardent 
 mind, a rich and glowing fancy, and of a heart of stern 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 integrity. These circumstances will serve to account for 
 whatever there is in this work of a marvellous character. 
 It cannot be more truly said of any man than of him, that 
 he saw the hand of God in all the events of his life ; and 
 whatever occurred in his course of a wonderful nature, his 
 firm belief in the divine supervision of human affairs led 
 him to regard at once as a particular providence." It was 
 this faith which led Mr. Murray so long to resist the im- 
 portunity of his Gloucester friends to settle with them as a 
 parish minister. He deemed his dut}^ to be that of a mis- 
 sionary, and his living to be that which came to him, not 
 by specific agreement, but by offerings of free-will. It i& 
 matter of thankfulness that his first impression of duty was 
 overruled b}^ providential circumstances. Thus he became 
 the father because the organizer of Universalism in Amer- 
 ica ; and thus the year 1870, one hundred years from the 
 era of Mr. Murray's advent to the United States, becomes 
 its centenary. 
 
 There were traces of Universalism already in the coun- 
 iry. Some, perhaps most, of his early colleagues, received 
 their opinions independenth^ of him. But the societies 
 which formed the nucleus of the Universalist denomination 
 were organized and knit together by him. His spirit of 
 fraternit}'^ pervaded them, and his apostolic manner and 
 his fervid eloquence inspired them with courage and faith. 
 Rev. Robert Redding, one of his English friends, and a 
 Baptist minister in Cornwall, thus wrote, in 1788, concern- 
 ing the impression made by his preaching : " I have been 
 favored the past week with a visit from a Mr. Murray, of 
 the United States of America. In person, of the middling 
 height, with a speaking countenance and masculine feat- 
 ures, natarall}^ rough and stern. His mind truly great and 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 noble, stored with good sense. He has a poetical imagina* 
 tion, a retentive memor}^ warm affections, a love for all 
 mankind, but in a particular manner for those who are of a 
 sincerely religious turn of mind. In his public discourses 
 he displa3'ed no art or affectation. He opened the Scriptures 
 in their natural order, or without any formal scholastic 
 division. He delivered his discourses with great grace of 
 oratory, but not without something theatrical in his man- 
 ner. He varied the tone of his voice, and was able, in a 
 -certain degree, to personate, and thus second his descrip- 
 tion of any character. He had an astonishing volubility, a 
 very good choice of words, a great variety of expression, 
 and adorned his sermons with quotations from flowery and 
 apposite lines of the poets. He excited the passions, and 
 fixed the attention of his audience to such a degree that 
 he could arouse and animate them at pleasure, or depress 
 them, with a peculiarly soft eloquence, even to tears. Yet 
 with all this power and superior qualification for the pulpit, 
 he seemed at times to forget the plainest rules of grammar. 
 He had no accurate mode of arranging his thoughts. 
 Sometimes he became low, and even puerile in expression, 
 as well as fanciful in his mode of treating the Scriptures, 
 turning them from their received meaning, and dealing too 
 much in allegorical illustrations. Yet, with all this, I never 
 yet met with any one in the pulpit, who so very soon car- 
 ried awa}' m}' feelings." 
 
 Rev. Nathaniel Stacy, not long since deceased, full of 
 years and of goodness, was present at the session of the 
 General Convention of 1804, in Sturbridge, and there 
 heard ISIr. Murray deliver two discourses. He says : " It 
 was interesting, indeed, to me, to see and hear Mr. Mur- 
 ray. I had heard ray parents often speak of him after they 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1^ 
 
 boldl}^ avowed their faith in Universalism, and describe 
 the manner of his preaching, and I had imbibed a high ven- 
 eration for the man, and had a strong desire to hear the 
 word of truth from his lips ; nor were mj^ anticipations dis- 
 appointed. His manner, to me, was pleasing, and his elo- 
 quence captivating. He appeared to possess a perfect 
 government over his own passions ; riveted the attention 
 of his hearers ; carried them with him through his whole 
 discourse, and made them feel the sensibilities of his own 
 soul ; would bring tears into their eyes, or excite their 
 risibilitj^ with as much ease as the words flowed from his 
 opening lips." 
 
 Mr. Murray's peculiar opinions were not of a character to- 
 secure a permanent hold of the public mind, or largely ta 
 affect a thinking people. They are sufficiently outlined by 
 Mrs. Murray, in her last chapter. Thej^ were shared 
 among preachers, as she concedes, at the time of her hus- 
 band's death, only b}^ Rev. John Tyler, Episcopal ministei 
 in Norwich, Conn., and Rev. Edward Mitchell, of the city 
 of New York. It is probable that no living man or woman 
 now entertains them, in their wholeness. But the doctrine 
 of the Father's universal love, the universality of Christian 
 salvation, and the harmony of holiness and happiness, 
 which he preached, has leavened the religious mind of the 
 age. It has compelled recognition and respect where it 
 has not found hospitality^ ; and while a large and growing 
 body of Christians hold it fast as their watchword and con- 
 fidence, it is modifying the opinions and softening the feel- 
 ing of great numbers who do not profess faith in it. Mr. 
 Murray found in the country two or three separated preach- 
 ers of the Universal Restoration ; in 1813, just before his 
 death, the records name fort}' ministers as in the fellowship 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the denomination of Universalists. Of the forty, there 
 survives only the venerable Russell Streeter. The rest 
 have departed ; but the number of preachers of the univer- 
 sal efficacy of the mission of Christ has increased to five 
 hundred and ninety -two. These, with various success, con- 
 tinue to proclaim the glad tidings of universal grace ; a;id 
 the recent evidences of generous zeal in the endowment of 
 educational institutions, and in contributions for mission- 
 ary work, warrant large confidence in the future of this 
 branch of the church of Christ. We indulge the fervent 
 hope that the Centenary of American Universalism will 
 witness a liberal oflfering, in testimony of thanksgiving for 
 the inspiration which called John Murray to be the apostle 
 of truth, and has breathed upon the land through his col- 
 leagues and successors. G. L. D. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S BIRTH AND PARENT- 
 AGE UNTIL THE DECEASE OF HIS FATHER. 
 
 How sweetly rolled over the morning of life I 
 How free from vexation, from sorrow and strife I 
 Kind nature presented rich scenes to my view, 
 And every scene she presented was new. 
 
 But soon was the morning of life clouded o'er, 
 And its charming serenity lost ; 
 
 Too soon was I forced to abandon the shore, 
 And on ocean's rude billows be tost. 
 
 Your earnest solicitations, my inestimable, my best friend, 
 have, with me, the force of commands, and consequently I 
 am irresistibly compelled to retrace, for 3'our gratification, 
 as man}^ of the incidents of earlj' life as live in my memory. 
 Assured of your indulgence, I unhesitatingly commit to your 
 :-andor and to j^our discretion the following sheets. 
 
 I am induced to regret that my anecdotes of this charm- 
 ■ig season are not more multiplied. Were my recollection 
 perfect, my enjoyments would be reiterated ; but this would 
 not be right, therefore it is not so. Every season has its 
 enjoyments, and the God of nature has thought proper to 
 keep them distinct and appropriate. 
 
 I think, if I mistake not, I was ushered into this state 
 
 15 
 
16 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 of being on the 10th day of December, in the year of our 
 Lord 1741, four years before the rebellion in Scotland, of 
 '45. I mention this circumstance, as it proved to me, in 
 early life, a source of some vexation. The rebellion termi- 
 nated in the destruction of many of the Scotch nobility of 
 my name ; and this same rebellion was long the subject of 
 political controversy^, which generally terminated in the exe- 
 cration of the Scots, and, on account of my name, I was 
 looked upon as a party concerned. 
 
 I drew my first breath in the island of Great Britain, in 
 the town of Alton, in Hampshire. This town boasts a church, 
 a Presbj'terian and a Quaker meeting-house, a celebrated 
 free school, an extensive and ver}^ useful manufacture, and 
 it is environed by a plantation of hops. Alton is seated on 
 the River We}-, eighteen miles east-north-east of South- 
 Hampton, and fortj-eight miles west-south-west of London. 
 
 Being the first-born of my parents, it is not wonderful 
 that m}^ appearance gave much jo}', nor that the little com- 
 plaints incident to infancy gave great apprehension. It 
 was in consequence of some little indisposition that they 
 solicited and obtained for me private baptism. M}^ parents 
 were both sincerely religious, though members of different 
 sects. M}^ father was an Episcopalian, my mother a Pres- 
 byterian ; yet religion never disturbed the harmony of the 
 familj'. My mother believed, as most good women then be- 
 lieved, that husbands ought to have the direction, especially 
 in concerns of such vast importance as to involve the future 
 well-being of their children ; and of conrsc it was agreed 
 that I should receive from the hands of an Episcopalian 
 minister the rite of private baptism ; and as this ordinance, 
 in this private manner, is not administered, except the 
 infant is suppo.^ed in danger of going out of the world in an 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 17 
 
 unregenerate state, before it can be brought to the church, 
 I take for granted I was, by my apprehensive parents, be- 
 lieved in imminent danger ; yet, through succeeding years, 
 I seemed almost exempt from the casualties of childhood. 
 I am told that my parents and grandparents had much 
 joy in me ; that I never broke their rest nor disturbed their 
 repose, not even in weaning ; that I was a healthy, good-hu- 
 mored child, of a ruddy complexion, and that the equality 
 of my disposition became proverbial. I found the use of 
 my feet before I had completed my first year ; but the gift 
 of utterance was still postponed. I was hardly two years 
 old, when I had a sister born ; this sister was presented at 
 the baptismal font, and, according to the custom in our 
 church, I was carried to be received; that is, all who are 
 privately baptized, must, if they live, be publicly received 
 in the congregation. The priest took me in his arms, and, 
 having prayed, according tq the form made use of on such 
 occasions, I articulated with an audible voice Amen. The 
 congregation were astonished, and I have frequentlj^ heard 
 my parents say this was the first word I ever uttered, and 
 that a long time elapsed before I could distinctly articu- 
 late any other. Indulged, as I said, by bounteous nature 
 with much serenity of mind, every one was happy with me. 
 I was fond of being abroad, and a servant was generally 
 employed to gratify me. During these repeated rambles I 
 experienced some " hair-breadth *scapes," which, while they 
 excited the wonder of my good parents, they failed not to 
 record. From these frequent promenades I derived that 
 vigorous constitution, or at least its stabilit}", which has 
 prolonged my abode in this vale of tears, through many 
 serious disorders which have seemed to promise my eman- 
 cipation. I do not remember the time when I did not 
 2 
 
18 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 behold the works of nature with delight, — such as the 
 drapery of the heavens, and the flowers of the garden and 
 the fields ; and I perfectly recollect, before I was clothed in 
 masculine habiliments, that I was delightedly occupied in 
 opening the ground, throwing it into some form, and 
 planting, in regular order, little sprigs broken from the 
 gooseberry or. currant bushes. My pleasures of this nature 
 were, however, soon interrupted by going to school. This 
 was my first affliction ; yet, to imperious necessity, the sweet 
 pliability of human nature soon conformed my mind ; na}^, 
 it was more than conformed. I derived even felicity, from 
 the approbation of my school-dame, from the pictures in my 
 books, and especially from the acquaintance I formed with 
 my school-mates. 
 
 It does not appear to me that I was what the world calls 
 naturally vicious. I was neither querulous, nor quarrel- 
 some ; I cannot trace in my mind a vestige of envy. I 
 rejoiced in every advantage possessed by my little comrades, 
 and my father was accustomed to exclaim, " Never, I be- 
 lieve, was such a boy ; he absolutely delights as much in the 
 new garments worn by the children of our neighbors, as in 
 his own ; " and, indeed, as far as I can recollect during this 
 sweet morning of life, my most complete satisfaction re- 
 sulted from the gratification of others. I never enjoyed 
 anything alone ; my earliest pleasures were social, and I 
 was eager to reciprocate every good office. It is true I en- 
 countered difficulties from the various dispositions of those 
 with whom I associated ; but, in my infant bosom, rancor or 
 implacability found no place. Being, however, too fond of 
 play, and ambitious of imitating m}^ seniors, I had little 
 time for reading ; yet I learned, and at six years old could 
 read a chapter in the Bible, not indeed very correctly, but 
 
LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURRAY. 19 
 
 [ rarely paused at a word ; however difficult, still I read on. 
 My father, I remember, used sometimes to laugh out, — a 
 levity which, by the way, he seldom indulged, — but he did 
 sometimes laugh out, and say, '' This bo}^ sticks at nothing ; 
 lie has a most astonishing invention ; how it is he utters 
 such sounds, and passes on with such rapidity, I cannot 
 conceive." But my blunders were more frequently marked 
 by a staggering box on the ear, which necessitated me to 
 stop, when I was obliged to recommence, and go over the 
 whole again. This conduct originated, even at this early 
 age, moYQ fear th2in affection for my father. I was studious 
 to avoid his presence, and I richly enjoyed his absence. To 
 my brothers and sisters, who were multiplied with uncom- 
 mon rapidity, I was warmly attached ; and as our mother 
 contributed all in her power to our gratification, our pleas- 
 ures were not surpassed bj^ those of any little group which 
 came under our observation. 
 
 My parents were the religious children of religious parents 
 and grandparents ; they were the more religious on that ac- 
 count ; and, as the descendants of ancient noble families 
 value themselves on their pedigree, stimulating their chil- 
 dren from considerations of ancestry to act up to the 
 illustrious examples which they exhibit and emblazon, uni- 
 formly insisting that they shall avoid mixing with the ple- 
 beian race ; so, as soon as I appeared to pay attention to 
 interesting tales, I was made acquainted with the characters 
 of my grandparents. 
 
 My paternal grandfather, however, possessed only nega- 
 tive religion ; that is, his affection for m}^ grandmother 
 obliged him to conform to her in everything ; and he esteemed 
 himself happy, in being blest with a wife, who, from principle 
 and inclination, was both able and willing to take upon her- 
 
20 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 self the care and culture of her children. How lonqr this 
 grandfather lived I am unable to say ; but my grandmother 
 was, with respect to her religious attachments, more fortu- 
 nate in a second marriage. She was united to a Mr. 
 Beattie, a man of considerable note in every point of view. 
 It was by this gentleman's name I became acquainted with 
 my grandmother. I remember, when very 3^oung, to have 
 seen his picture, which gave me a very high idea of his 
 person. It was his son who was governor of the fortress 
 in the harbor of Cork. My grandmother soon lost this 
 second husband, and never married again. She was, in the 
 morning and meridian of her life, a celebrated beauty ; the 
 remains of a fine face were visible when I knew her. I never 
 beheld a more beautiful old lady. Traces of affluence were 
 conspicuous in her dwelling, her furniture, and apparel. She 
 was an immediate descendant of an ancient and honorable 
 family in France ; her father's name was Barroux, one of 
 the noblesse, and a dweller in the town of Paimboeuf, on the 
 River Loire, between the city of Nantes and the mouth of 
 said river. Mr. Barroux, having buried his lad}^, who left 
 him two daughters, thought proper, as was then the custom 
 of people of distinction, to educate his eldest daughter in 
 England. This step banished her from her native country 
 and from her father ; she never saw either more. Attaching 
 herself to a family of Episcopalians, she became a zealous 
 Protestant, which, together with her selecting a husband of 
 the same persuasion, confirmed her an exile forever. The 
 irritated feeling of her father admitted no appeal ; his affec- 
 tions were totally alienated. He was a high-spirited, 
 obstinate man, and he swore, in his wrath, he would wed the 
 first woman he met, provided he could obtain her consent, 
 and she was not absolutely disgusting. The first who pre- 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 21 
 
 sented happened to be his chambermaid. He made known to 
 her his vow, was accepted with gratitude, and they were 
 speedily married. Not many j^ears after this event, the old 
 gentleman died, leaA^ng no issue by his second marriage ; 
 and, as he left no will, his daughter, who continued under 
 the paternal roof, entered into possession of the whole 
 estate. She, however, survived her father onl}^ three weeks, 
 when my grandmother became the only legal heir to the 
 pi'opert}', both of her father and her sister. 
 
 A large share of the personal estate was conveyed to 
 England by two priests ; and the real estate was tendered 
 to my grandmother, on condition that she w^ould read 
 her recantation, renounce the damnable doctrines of the 
 Church of England, and receive the Host, as the real 
 presence. M3" grandmother and my father, after a con- 
 ference which continued but a few moments, cheerfuUj^ 
 concurred in a relinquishment of the estate, and united in 
 declaring, that, on terms so calculated to prostrate their 
 integrity, they would not accept the whole kingdom of 
 France. The clergymen returned to the Gallic shore, and 
 the person left in the house, for the purpose of taking 
 charge of the estate until the heirs-at-law should recover 
 their senses, continued in the quiet possession of an in- 
 heritance worth five hundred pounds sterling per annum. 
 When the estate was thus, upon religious principles, 
 surrendered, I was about five 3'ears of age ; but having 
 frequently heard my father circumstantiallj^ relate the 
 transaction, as I advanced in life my bosom often ac- 
 knowledged a latent wish that he had accepted an inherit- 
 ance, to which his natural claim was indubitable, upon the 
 terms offered by the ecclesiastics, which were, that my 
 gi'andmother and my father should, in so many words, 
 
22 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 qualify themselves for the possession of their right, while, 
 in their hearts, they continued to judge for themselves. 
 But from a conduct so questionable, the guileless heart of 
 m}^ upright i)arent spontaneously revolted ; and, for my- 
 self, while revolving 3'ears gave me to exult in his decis- 
 ion, the detection, of so reprehensible a principle in my 
 own bosom, and at so earl}- a period, originated much con- 
 trition. Yet, notwithstanding the very considerable sac- 
 rifice made by m}^ father, his uniform efforts commanded 
 all the necessaries and many of the elegancies of life. 
 His children multiplied ; four sons and five daughters 
 augmented his felicities. He received from nature a 
 strong mind ; his parents bestowed upon him a good 
 education, and he was universally respected and beloved. 
 
 The parents of my mother were well known to me. 
 Her father's name was James Rolt ; his ancestors were all 
 English. He was in early life a hon-vivaiit^ and even 
 when he became the head of a familj^ his repreliensible 
 pursuits were nothing diminished. The silent suflTeriugs of 
 his wedded companion were strongl}' expressed in her wan 
 countenance and broken health. The circumstances of his 
 conversion from dissipation to a life of severe piet}' were 
 rather remarkable, and were considered in his day as 
 miraculous. 
 
 Of the piet}^ of m}' paternal grandfather, or my mater- 
 nal grandmother, 1 have little to say. 1 have never heard 
 that the}^ allowed themselves in an}- improper indulgences ; 
 and as they were the admirers of their devout companions, 
 it is a fair conclusion that they were at least negatively 
 pious, and that, if they did not lead, they cheerfully fol- 
 lowed, in cultivating a pious disposition in the minds of 
 their children ; and, by consequence, religion became the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 23 
 
 legitimate inheritance of my immediate parents. The 
 conversion of m}^ paternal grandmother" from the tenets in 
 which she was educated increased her zeal, while the in- 
 heritance sacrificed from conscientious principles gave 
 her to consider herself more especiall}- heir of an inheri- 
 tance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away ; 
 and, conscious that she had full}' concurred with m}^ father 
 in depriving their children of a temporal treasure, they 
 were sedulousl}' anxious to inculcate a persuasion of the 
 necessit}' of securing another. 
 
 It is wonderful that, while it was the great business, 
 both of my father and mother, to render their children 
 feelingl}' solicitous to secure an interest in the Redeemer, 
 that the}' might be thus entitled to a blessed and happy 
 fiiturit}-, they were both of them ver}^ rigid Calvinists. 
 
 The doctrines taught hy that gloomj- reformer they 
 undeviatingl}^ taught to their famil}' ; and hence my soul 
 frequently experienced the extreme of agony. Naturally 
 vivacious, to implant religion among my juvenile pleas- 
 ures required the most vigorous and uniform effort. 
 Religion was not a native of the soil ; it was an exotic, 
 which, when planted, could onl}' be kept alive by the most 
 persevering attention. Hence religion became a subject 
 of terror. I was not ten years old when I began to suffer. 
 The discover}' of my sufferings gave my fond father much 
 pleasure ; he cherished hope of me when he found me 
 suffering from my fears ; and much indeed was I tortured 
 by the severe, unbending discipline of my father, and the 
 terrifying apprehensions of what I had to expect from the 
 God who created me. The second son of my parents was 
 naturally of a pensive, gloomy disposition. He was more 
 piously disposed, and less fond of amusement than my- 
 
24 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 self; and hearing much of Cain as the eldest son of Adam, 
 of Esau as the eldest son of Isaac, and of Abel and Jacob 
 as the younger sons, my soul was frequently filled with 
 terror, verily believing my brother was the elected, and 
 mj^self the rejected, of God. This appalling consideration, 
 even at this early period, frequently devoted my da3's and 
 nights to tears and lamentation. But stability dwelt not 
 with me, and the pleasing expectations of my father were 
 often blasted ; mj^ attachment to my pla3'mates and their 
 childish gambols revived ; and, when engaged in appropri- 
 ate amusements, I often forgot the immediate terror of the 
 rod, and of future misery, both of which, as often as I re- 
 flected, I painfully believed I should endure. M}^ father 
 took every method to confine me within his walls ; it was 
 with diflflculty he prevailed upon himself to permit my 
 attendance at school, j^et this was necessary, and to school 
 I must go ; while that rigid and extreme vigilance, which 
 was ever upon the alert, produced effects diametrically 
 opposite to the end proposed. My appetite for pleasure 
 increased, and I occasionally preferred the truant frolic to 
 the stated seasons of stud}^ yea, though I was certain 
 severe castigation would be the consequence. Pious sup- 
 plications were the accompaniments of the chastisements 
 which were inflicted, so that I often passed from the terror 
 of the rod to the terrifying apprehensions of future and 
 never-ending miser}^ Upon these terrific occasions the 
 most solemn resolutions were formed, and my vows were 
 marked by floods of tears. I would no more offend cither 
 my father, or Ids God ; I dared not to say my God, for I 
 had heard my father declare that for any individual, not 
 the elect of God, to say of God, or to God, " Our 
 Fatiikr," was nothing better than blasphemy : when most 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 25 
 
 devout, I was prevented from deriving consolation from 
 my pious breathings, b\^ a persuasion that I was a repro- 
 bate, predestined to eternal perdition. In fact, I believed 
 that I had nothing to hope, but everything to fear, both 
 from my Creator and ni}^ father ; and these soul-appalling 
 considerations, by enforcing a conclusion that I was but 
 making provision for alternate torture, threw a cloud over 
 ever}' innocent enjo3'ment. 
 
 About the time that I attained m}' eleventh 3'ear (1751) 
 my father removed to Ireland, and though I dreaded going 
 with him anywhere, I was the onl}' individual of the 
 famil}' whom he compelled to accompany him. Yet I was 
 captivated by the charms of noveltJ^ London filled me 
 with amazement; and my fond, ni}' apprehensive father 
 was in continual dread of losing me ; while the severity he 
 practised to detain me near him, b}' invigorating my 
 desires to escape from his presence, increased the evil. 
 
 We quitted London in the middle of April, and, reach- 
 ing Bristol, tarried but a little while in that city. At Pill, 
 five miles from Bristol, between m}^ father and m3'self a 
 final separation was on the point of taking place. In the 
 Bristol Kiver the tide is extremely rapid. I stepped into 
 a boat on the slip, and, letting it loose, the force of the 
 current almost instantly carried it off into the channel, 
 and had it been ehh instead of flood tide I must inevitably 
 have gone out to sea, anil most probably' should never 
 have been heard of more ; but the flood tide carried me 
 with great rapidit}" up the river, and the onlj' fear I ex- 
 perienced was from the eflfects of ray father's indignation. 
 The poor gentleman and a number of compassionate 
 individuals were engaged, until almost twelve o'clock, in 
 searching the town, and the harbor, and had returned 
 
26 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 home relinquishing every hope of my restoration. In the 
 midst of the stream I found a large flat-bottomed boat at 
 anchor, to which, making fast the boat I was in, I conse- 
 quently proceeded no farther. At midnight, I heard 
 voices on the side of the river, when, earnestly imploring 
 their aid, and offering a liberal reward, they came in their 
 boat, and, conveying me on shore, conducted me to my 
 lodgings. But no language can describe my dismay, as I 
 drew near my father, who was immediately preparing to 
 administer the deserved chastisement, when the beuevolent 
 hostess interposed, and in pity-moving accents exclaimed, 
 " Oh, for God's sake let the poor Blood alone ; I warrant 
 he has suffered enough already." My father was softened ; 
 perhaps he was not displeased to find a pretence for mild- 
 ness ; he gave me no correction for this ofience ; he even 
 treated me with unusual kindness. We were detained in 
 Pill three weeks, wishing for a favorable wind ; three 
 weeks more at Minehead, and three weeks at Milford 
 Haven. Thus we were nine weeks in performing a pas- 
 sage which is commonly made in forty-eight hours ; and 
 instead of my father's reaching Cork before the residue of 
 his family they were there almost at the moment of our 
 arrival. In Cork we were at home. There dwelt the 
 respected mother of my father, and in easy circumstances ; 
 many changes, however, had taken place in her family, 
 although the remains of affluence were still visible. My 
 father fixed his residence in the vicinity of this city, and a 
 most pleasing residence it proved. 
 
 About this time the Methodists made their appearance, 
 and my father was among the first who espoused their 
 cause. His zeal for vital religion could hardly be sur- 
 passed ; and it appeared to him that this innate and lioly 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 27 
 
 operation, rejected by every other sect, bad found refuge 
 in tbe bosoms of these exemplary people. But, though 
 my father espoused the cause, he did not immediately 
 become a Metho''^t ; the Methodists were not Calvinists. 
 Yet, if possible, he doubled his diligence ; he kept his 
 family more strict than ever ; he was distinguished by the 
 name of saint, and became the onl}'- person in his vicinity 
 whom the Methodists acknowledged as trul}^ pious. With 
 the religion of the Methodists I was greatly enamored ; 
 they preached often, and in the streets ; they had private 
 societies of 3'oung people, and sweet singing, and a vast 
 deal of it, and an amazing variety of tunes, — and all 
 this was beyond expression charming. At this period the 
 health of my father began to decline. Physicians con- 
 curred in opinion that his complaints indicated a pulmo- 
 nary affection. Again bis efforts were renewed and invig- 
 orated, and, poor gentleman, his labors were abundantly 
 multiplied. The ardent desire of his soul was to render 
 every individual of his family actively religious, and relig- 
 ious in his own way ; but as his children necessarily 
 mingled more or less with the children in the neighbor- 
 hood, they caught words and habits which he disliked, and 
 application was made to the rod as a sovereign panacea. 
 
 In the course of my twelfth year my father was over- 
 taken by a very heavy calamity : his house, and indeed 
 almost everything he possessed, were laid in ashes. He 
 had only a moment to snatch to his bosom a sleeping in- 
 fant from its cradle, when a part of the house fell in ; an 
 instant longer, and they would both have been wrapped in 
 the surrounding flames ; and a deep sense of this pre- 
 serving mercy accompanied him to his grave. Thus every 
 event of his life seemed to combine to render his devotions- 
 
^8 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 more and more fervent. It was happ}^ for us that my 
 respectable grandmother still lived, whose extricating hand 
 was an ever ready resource. 
 
 It was my father's constant practice, so long as his health 
 would permit, to quit his bed, winter as well as summer, at 
 four o'clock in the morning. A large portion of this time, 
 thus redeemed from sleep, w^as devoted to private prayers 
 and meditations: At six o'clock the family were sum- 
 moned, and I, as the eldest son, was ordered into my closet, 
 for the purpose of private devotion. My father, however, 
 did not go with me, and I did not always pray. I was not 
 always in a praying frame ; but the deceit, which I was 
 thus reduced to the necessity of practising, was an addi- 
 tional torture to my laboring mind. After the family were 
 collected, it was my part to read a chapter in the Bible ; 
 then followed a long and fervent prayer by m}^ father ; 
 breakfast succeeded, when, the children being sent to 
 school, the business of the day commenced. In the course 
 of the day my father, as I believed, never omitted his pri- 
 vate devotions, and in the evening the whole family were 
 again collected, the children examined, our faults recorded, 
 and I, as an example to the rest, especially chastised. My 
 father rarely passed by an offence without marking it b}^ 
 such punishment as his sense of duty awarded ; and when 
 my tearful mother interceded for me, he would respond to 
 her entreaties in the language of Solomon, '' If thou heat 
 him with a rod, he shall 7iot die." The Bible was again in- 
 troduced, and the day was closed by prayer. Sunday was 
 a day much to be dreaded in our family. We were all 
 awakened at early dawn, private devotions attended, break- 
 fast hastily dismissed, shutters closed, no light but from 
 the back part of the house ; no noise could bring any part 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 29 
 
 of the family to the window ; not a syllable was uttered 
 upon secular affairs. Every one who could read, children 
 and domestics, had their allotted chapters. Family prayer 
 succeeded ; after which, Baxter's " Saints' Everlasting 
 Kest " was assigned to me ; my mother all the time in ter- 
 ror lest the children should be an interruption. At last the 
 bell summoned us to church, whither in solemn order we 
 proceeded, — 1 close to my father, who admonished me to 
 look straight forward, and not let my eyes wander after 
 vanit}'". At church I was fixed at his elbow, compelled to 
 kneel when he kneeled, to stand when he stood, to find the 
 Psalm, Epistle, Gospel, and collects for the day ; and any 
 instance of inattention was vigilantly marked, and unre- 
 lentingly punished. When I returned from church I was 
 ordered to my closet ; and when I came forth, the chapter 
 from which the preacher had taken his text was read, and 
 I was then questioned respecting the sermon, a part of 
 which I could generally repeat. Dinner, as breakfast, was 
 taken in silent haste, after which we were not suflered to 
 walk, even in the garden, but every one must either read 
 or hear reading until the bell gave the signal for afternoon 
 service, from which we returned to private devotion, to 
 reading, to catechizing, to examination, and long family 
 prayer, which closed the most laborious day of the week. 
 It was the custom for many of our visiting friends to unite 
 with us in these evening exercises, to the no small gratifica- 
 tion of my father. It is true, especially after he became an 
 invalid, he was often extremely fatigued ; but, upon these 
 occasions, the more lie suffered, the more he rejoiced, since 
 his reward would be the greater ; and indeed his sufferings, 
 of every description, were to him a never-failing source of 
 consolation. In fact, this devotional life became to him 
 
30 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY, 
 
 second nature ; but it was not so to his family. For my- 
 self, I was alternately serious and wild, but never yet very 
 moderate in any tiling. M}^ father rejoiced in my devotional 
 frames, and was encouraged to proceed, as occasion was 
 given, in the good work of whipping, admonishing, and 
 pra3'ing. I continued to repeat my pious resolutions, and, 
 still more to bind ni}' soul, I once vowed a vow unto the 
 Lord, — kissing the book for the purpose of adding to its 
 solemnity", — that I would no more visit the pleasure- 
 gi'ounds, nor again associate with those boys who had been 
 my companions. Almost immediately after this transac- 
 tion I attended a thundering preacher, who, taking for his 
 text that command of our Saviour which directs his disci- 
 ples to " swear not at all," gave me to believe I had com- 
 mitted a most heinous transgression in the oath that I had 
 taken. Na}^ he went so far as to assure his hearers, that tc 
 say " Upon my word " was an oath, a ver}^ horrid oath, since 
 it was tantamount to swearing by Jesus Christ, inasmuch 
 as he was the Word, who was made flesh for us, and dwelt 
 amonoj us. This sermon rendered me for a lonor season 
 truly wretched, while I had no individual to whom I could 
 confide my distresses. To mj^ father I dared not even name 
 my secret afflictions ; and my mother, as far as the tender- 
 ness of her nature would permit, was in strict unison with 
 her venerated husband. The depression of m}^ spirits upon 
 this occasion was great and enduring ; but for revolving 
 months I continued what they called a good boy. I was 
 attentive to my book, carefully following the directions 
 that were given me, and on my return from school, instead 
 of squandering the hours of intermission with idle associ- 
 ates, I immediately retired to the garden, which constituted 
 one of the first pleasures of my life ; in fact, the cultivation 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 31 
 
 of fruits and flowers has in ever}- period of m}" existence 
 continued to me a prime source of enjoyment. My pater- 
 nal grandmother was the Lad}' Bountiful of the parish ; 
 having made it her study, she became an adept in the dis- 
 tillation of simples ; she had a large garden adjoining to my 
 father's, and she cultivated an amazing variety of plants. 
 As I was her favorite assistant, she gradually obtained my 
 father's permission that I should appropriate to her a large 
 part of my time ; and the hours which I consequently 
 devoted to this venerable lady in her garden and in her 
 habitation were to me halcyon hours. It was my study to 
 enrich her grounds with every choice herb or flower which 
 met my gaze, and I was ever on the alert to collect plants 
 of the most rare description. This was confessedly an 
 innocent amusement ; it would bear reflection, and was 
 therefore delightful. Alas ! alas ! it was too replete with 
 felicity to be continued. I was soon compelled to relin- 
 quish my pleasant occupation. My father found it neces- 
 sary to remove from the neighborhood of his mother, and 
 her garden no more bloomed for me. 
 
 We were speedily established in the vicinity of a noble- 
 man's seat, in which was instituted an academy of high rep- 
 utation. It was under the direction of an Episcopalian 
 clerg3'man, who, being well acquainted with and much at- 
 tached to m}^ father, had frequent opportunities of hearing 
 me recite many chapters from the Bible, which I had com- 
 mitted to memory, and, becoming fond of me, he earnestly 
 importuned my father to surrender me up to his care. '' He 
 shall live in my family," said he ; "he shall be unto me as a 
 son. I will instruct him, and, when opportunity offers, he 
 shall become a member of the University. He has a prodig- 
 ious memory ; his understanding needs only to be opened, 
 
32 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 when he will make the most rapid progress." But my father, 
 trembling for my spiritual interest if removed from his 
 guardian care, returned to this liberal proposal the most un- 
 qualified negative, and my writing-master immediately 
 sought and obtained the situation for his son, who was about 
 my age. In this academy many noblemen's pons were qual- 
 ified for Trinity College, Dublin ; and in a few years one of 
 those ennobled students selected my fortunate school-mate 
 as a companion. He passed through Trinity College, and re- 
 ceived its honors ; from which period I never again beheld 
 him until I saw him in a pulpit in the city of London. 
 
 Though my social propensities at every period of my life 
 greatly predominated, 3' et the close attention paid me by my 
 father greatly abridged every enjoyment of this description. 
 Yet I did form one dear connexion, with whom I held sweet 
 converse. But of the society of this dear youth I was soon 
 deprived. Recalled by his family, he was to leave town upon 
 a Sunday morning, and instead of going to church I took my 
 way to his lodgings for the purpose of bidding him a last 
 farewell. The ill-health of my father prevented him from 
 attending church on that day, but tidings of my delinquency 
 were conveyed to him by a gentleman of his acquaintance, 
 and my punishment as I then believed was more than pro- 
 portioned to my fault. Still, however, I had sufficient 
 hardihood to run great hazards. A review of several regi- 
 ments of soldiers was announced. I could not obtain leave 
 to be present, yet, for the purpose of witnessing a sight so 
 novel, I was determined to take the day to myself. I suf- 
 fered much through the day from hunger, and I anticipated 
 m}^ reception at home. In the evening, I stopped at a little 
 hut, where the homely supper smoked upon a frugal board. 
 The cottagers had the goodness to press me to partake with 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 33 
 
 them. My heart blessed them. I should, like Esau, have 
 given m}' birthright, had it been mine to bestow, for this 
 entertainment ; but, blessings on the hospitable inhabitants 
 of this island, they make no demands either upon friend 
 or stranger ; every individual is welcome to whatever 
 sustenance either their houses or their huts afford. I sat 
 down, and I ate the sweetest meal I ever ate in my life, the 
 pleasure of which I have never yet forgotten, although 
 the paternal chastisement which followed was uncom- 
 monly severe. 
 
 The time now approached when it was judged necessary 
 I should engage in some business, by which I might secure 
 the necessaries of life. The conscience of my father had 
 deprived me of an estate and of a collegiate education, and 
 It was incumbent upon him to make some provision for me. 
 But what was to be done? If he sent me abroad, I should 
 most unquestionably contract bad habits. Well, then, he 
 would bring me up himself; but this was very diflScult. He 
 had for some time thrown up business, and new expenses 
 must be incurred. Finally, however, I commenced my new 
 career, and under the e3'e of m}' painstaking father. I did 
 not, however, like it ; yet I went on well, and, dividing my 
 attention between my occupation and my garden, I had lit- 
 tle leisure. It was at this period I began once more to 
 experience the powerful operation of religion, and secret 
 devotion became my choice. Perhaps no one of m}^ age 
 ever more potently felt the joys and sorrows of religion. 
 The Methodists had followed us to our new situation, and 
 the}^ made much noise. They courted and obtained the at- 
 tention of my father, and he now joined their society. They 
 urged him to become a preacher, but his great humility, and 
 his disbelief of Arminianism, were insuperable bars. He 
 
34 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 was nevertheless a powerful assistant to the Methodists. 
 Mr. John Wesley was a great admirer of my father, and he 
 distinguished him beyond any individual in the society, per- 
 severingly urging him to become the leader of a class, and 
 to meet the society in the absence of their preachers ; to all 
 which my father consented. I think I have before observed 
 that I was devoted to the Methodists, and for the very reason 
 that rendered my father apprehensive of them, — they were 
 very social. The Methodists in this, as in every other 
 place where they sojourned, by degrees established a per- 
 manent residence. They first preached in the streets, prac- 
 tised much self-denial and mortification, inveighed against 
 the standing religion of the country as impious and hj^po- 
 critical, declaring the new birth onh^ to be found among 
 them. To this general rule, they, however, allowed my 
 father to be an exception, and his open espousal of their 
 cause contributed greatly to bringing them up. They gained 
 many proselytes. It became the fashion for multitudes to 
 become religious ; and it is in religion as in everything else, 
 where once it is followed by a multitude, multitudes will 
 ^follow. The very children became religious. A meeting- 
 house was speedily obtained, a society was formed, and 
 classes of every description regularly arranged. There was 
 one class of boys ; it consisted of fort}^, and Mr. John Wes- 
 ley appointed me their leader. Twice in the course of 
 every week this class met in a private apartment. The busi- 
 ness of the leader was to see that the members were all 
 present ; for this purpose he was furnished with a list of 
 their names, and when they were all assembled the leader 
 began by singing a hymn. 
 
 I was once pronounced a good singer, and, although I 
 never had patience to learn music by note, I readily 
 
LIFE OF JIEV. JOHN MURRAY. 35 
 
 caught every tune I heard, and my notes were seldom 
 false. I repeat, that I was delighted with the music intro- 
 duced b}^ the Methodists. I collected their most enchant- 
 ing tunes, and, singing them frequently in my class, I 
 obtained much applause. Pra^^er succeeded the hymn. I 
 was accustomed to extemporary praj-er. I had usuall}- 
 praj'ed in sincerity, and my devotion upon these occasions 
 was glowinor and unfeis^ned. Examination followed the 
 praj^er. I examined every individual separately respecting 
 the work of God upon his heart, and both the questions 
 and responses evinced great simplicity and pious sincerity. 
 A word of general advice next ensued, a second hymn 
 was sung, and the whole concluded with prayer. This 
 was a most delightful season both for my parents and m}^- 
 self. I became the object of general attention ; m}^ so- 
 ciety was sought by the gray-headed man and the child. 
 My experience was various and great ; in fact, I had ex- 
 perienced more of what is denominated the work of God 
 upon the heart than many, I had almost said than any, of 
 my seniors, my parents excepted. Devout persons pro- 
 nounced that I was, by divine favor, destined to become a 
 burning and a shining light; and from these flattering 
 appearances my father drew much consolation. I was 
 frequently addressed, in his presence, as the child of much 
 watching and earnest pra3^er. This, to my proudly pious 
 parent, was not a little flattering ; it was then that I 
 derived incalculable satisfaction from these \qyy legible 
 marks of election. And though the Methodists insisted 
 that the doctrine of election before repentance and faith 
 was a damnable doctrine, jQi they admitted that, after the 
 manifestation of extraordinary evidences, the individual 
 so favored was unquestionably elected. Thus, by the 
 
36 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 concurrent testimonies of Calvinists and Arminians, I was 
 taught to consider myself as distinguished and chosen of 
 God ; as certainly born again. Yet, as it was next to 
 impossible to ascertain the moment of m}- new birth, I 
 became seriously unhappy. But from this unhappiness I 
 was rescued by reading accounts of hol}^ and good men in 
 similar circumstances. I now, therefore, lived a heaven 
 upon earth, beloved, caressed, and admired. No longer 
 shut up under m}^ father's watchful care, I was allowed to 
 go out every morning, at five o'clock, to the house of pub- 
 lic worship ; there I h3'mned the praises of God, and 
 united in fervent prayer with the cliildren of the faithful. 
 Meeting several of m}^ young, admiring friends, we ex- 
 changed experiences, we mingled our joys and our sor- 
 rows, and, by this friendly intercourse, the first was 
 increased, and the second diminished. In all our little 
 meetings we were continually complaining to, and sooth- 
 ing, each other, and these employments were trul}^ delight- 
 ful. The mind cannot be intently occupied on contrary 
 matters at the same time, and, my mind being filled with 
 devotion, my waking and m}^ sleeping moments were inva- 
 riably engaged in religious pursuits. It was in truth my 
 meat and my drink to do what I believed the will of my 
 heavenly Father. At this period I should have been 
 wrecked upon the sand-built foundation of self-righteous- 
 ness, as many of my 3'oung friends were, had it not been 
 for the unbroken vigilance of an experienced and tender 
 father. He saw the danger of too great elation, .and he 
 labored to keep me humble in my own estimation. " You 
 now, my dear," said he, " think you know everything ; 
 but when you really attain superior information j^ou will 
 be convinced .you know noihing." This assertion ap- 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHX MURRAY. 87 
 
 peared to me extremely paradoxical ; but I have since 
 learned to appreciate its rationalitj- and its truth. I know 
 not how long I proceeded in this delightful path ; nothing 
 from within or without interrupted ni}- course, and I well 
 remember that I fancied mj^self on the verge of perfection. 
 I saw, or imagined I saw, undeviating rectitude within my 
 grasp. I was conscious of no wishes but those which I 
 considered the legitimate offspring of the religion I pro- 
 fessed. I wondered what had become of my evil propen- 
 sities ; the}' were, however, gone, and I believed they 
 would no more return. M}' daj's, my weeks, rolled on, 
 uniformh' devoted to pursuits which created for me unut- 
 terable self-complacenc}'. On Sunda}' morning I arose 
 with the sun, and like our first parent in a state of inno- 
 cence, — 
 
 " Straight towards heaven my wandering eyes I turned, 
 And gazed awhile the ample sky." 
 
 Thus, after a night of charmingl}- refreshing and undis- 
 turbed repose, with spirits innocenth' ga}', I arose, washed 
 m}' face and hands, repeating a short supplication, which 
 my father never on those occasions omitted : O Almighty 
 God, who hath ordained this water}^ element for the use 
 and support of nature, by which I am at this time re- 
 freshed and cleansed, oh, purif}^ my soul by the operation 
 of thy blessed Spirit, as a well of water springing up unto 
 everlasting life ! " I then retired to my closet, offering the 
 orisons of my gladdened heart, and habited for church. I 
 sat down to my book until my father made his appearance, 
 when, the famil}' being summoned and the morning praj'er 
 ended, we breakfasted ; but it was a light report, and soon 
 despatched. At eight o'clock I attended the Methodist 
 
38 LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. 
 
 meeting; at half-past nine, returned lionie and devoted 
 the time to reading until after ten, when the bell sum- 
 moned me to churcli where the Methodists at that time 
 attended. At cliurch I was remarked for my devotion. 
 From the churcli I returned to my closet, after whicli I 
 read the Bible, responding to the interrogations of my 
 father relative to the sermon by rei)eating it nearly verba- 
 tim. Dinner over, I again retired to my closet, from 
 which, by my father's desire, I made my appearance to 
 read for him some devotional book, until the bell again 
 commanded my attendance upon public worship ; but, to 
 my great consolation, I liad not when 'I returned home, as 
 on Sunday sketched in a former page, to spend the residue 
 of the day in saddening glooms. At five o'clock, the 
 Methodist meeting again opened, to which the multitude 
 flocked ; there I saw, and there, with affectionate admira- 
 tion, I was seen ; there, when the terrors of law were 
 exhibited, I was delighted by the assurance of eternal 
 security therefrom ; and there, wlien the children of the 
 Redeemer were addressed in the soothing and i)lausive 
 strains of consolation, my heart throbbed with pleasure, 
 and tears of transport copiously evinced the rapture of my 
 soul. Society meeting succeeded the close of public ser- 
 vice. Three classes of the peo})le were denominated 
 Methodists : the congregation, who, as outer-court wor- 
 shii:)pers, were only hearers and seel'ers; members of the 
 societv, Avho Avere classed; and members of the band 
 society, who were genuine believers. The two latter met 
 every Sunday evening after meeting, and no individual 
 who was not furnished with a ticket could gain admit- 
 tance. This ticket was a badge of distinction; it gave 
 the possessor entrance ; all others were shut out, and the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. 39 
 
 door was locked. No words can describe my sensations 
 when I obtained a seat i/tside the closed door, when I 
 listened while the preacher in a low voice addressed the 
 children of God. The house was not unfrequently filled 
 with the dissonant sounds of terror and joy, issuing from 
 the discordant voices of tliose who were in the valley or 
 on the mount. From this society I returned home, to 
 unite in family devotion, repeat the fundamental points in 
 my religion, retire to my private devotions, and tlien to 
 bed. Monday morning I arose at five o'clock, and, after 
 the same preparation as on Sunday, attended meeting, 
 returned to breakfast, occupied myself with the business 
 of the day until dinner ; and after dinner an interval 
 passed in private devotion to secular affairs again until 
 evening; then once more to the Methodist meeting, re- 
 turned, attended family and private devotions, and to my 
 chamber, often not to rest, but to my book till midnight. 
 Thus was my time spent, two evenings in the week ex- 
 cepted, which were devoted to my class, and one night in 
 the week, when the society assembled as on Sunday even- 
 ing; but, alas! the fervor of si)irit excited on those occa- 
 sions cannot, in the nature of things, be very durable. 
 There were individuals in my class who proved untoward; 
 they began to be weary in well-doing. This Avas a source 
 of sorrow, the first I had experienced for a long time; 
 added to this, repeated complaints reached my ear, and 
 not unfrequently slanderous reports, — reports one against 
 another. This tortured me. I consulted the preachers. 
 Disputes ran high ; the interposition of parents became in- 
 dispensable, and the class was broken. This was a severe 
 trial. I had derived high satisfaction from the connection, 
 and from the fame which it had bestowed upon me. I, 
 
40 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 however, lost no reputation ; it was generally believed I 
 had performed ray duty, and that no boy beside myself 
 would have kept such a set of beings together and in such 
 order so long. 
 
 This was a season replete with events, which possessed 
 for me no common interest. Constantly in society, I formed 
 many attachments, and I began to fear that the love of 
 social enjoyments would, like Aaron's rod, swallow up my 
 best affections. From conviction of error, I sought retire- 
 ment. I loved reading more than anything else ; but I 
 sighed for variety, and as the full soul loatheth the honey- 
 comb I began to sicken at the constant repetition of devo- 
 tional books. My father read history and some few novels ; 
 but he took special care to secure those books from his 
 children. We were allowed to read no books but the Bible, 
 and volumes based upon this precious depository of what- 
 soever things are good and excellent. I sometimes, how- 
 evei-, glanced my eye over my father's shoulder, and find- 
 ing " Tom Jones," or the " History of a Foundling," in his 
 hand, the efforts at concealment, which he evidently made, 
 augmented my anxiety to read. I remember once to have 
 found " Clarissa Harlow " upon his table. " Hervey's Med- 
 itations," and " Young's Night Thoughts," were not inter- 
 dicted books, and their plaintive sadness obtained an easy 
 admission into the inmost recesses of my soul. To Milton, 
 too, I gave some hours ; but I could not read blank verse, 
 nor did my father wish to encourage my attempts in this 
 way. He saw I had too strong passion for novelty, and he 
 deemed it prudent to check me in the commencement of my 
 career. 
 
 Although my devotional ecstasies were diminished, yet I 
 was stoadilv attentive to my religious exercises, and I be- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 41 
 
 lievecl myself daily increasing in good. It is true my life 
 was as variable as the weatlier ; sometimes on the mount, 
 and somethnes in the valley ; sometimes alive to all the 
 fervor of devotion, and sometimes, alas! very lifeless: 
 now rejoicing in hope, and anon depressed by fear. 
 
 The preachers visiting the adjacent villages often re- 
 quested my father to permit my attendance. His consent 
 delighted me. I reaped from those little excursions abun- 
 dant satisfaction, and the j^reachers being my elders, and 
 much acquainted with the world, I collected from their 
 conversation much to instruct and amuse. They were, 
 however, young men; they collected young company, and 
 they were excellent singers. This was a most j^leasing cir- 
 cumstance. My affections naturally glowing, I soon formed 
 strong attachments, and the craft of JMr. Wesley changing 
 his candidates with every pew quarter, the farewell sermons 
 generally dissolved the whole congregation in tears, and 
 my bosom was often lacerated ^vith many and deep wounds. 
 
 An order from the bishop now arrived, calling upon the 
 people to prepare for confirmation, and young persons were 
 directed to wait upon their parish minister for the requisite 
 instruction. Although the Methodists considered them- 
 selves Episcopalians, yet they were detested by the clergy 
 of that church ; their zeal seemed a standing satire upon 
 them ; and their indignation was proportioned to the prog- 
 ress made by the new sect. We, however, presented our- 
 selves as candidates for confirmation. Though young, I was 
 pretty generally known, and it soon became evident that I 
 had incurred the displeasure of my minister. No question 
 was pro])Osed to me, but his oblique reflections were abun- 
 dant. I determined, however, to address him; and one 
 day when he was cautioning those wdio were honored by his 
 
42 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 attention against those expectations about which the wild 
 enthusiasts of the day were fanatically raving, such as the 
 extraordinary operations of the Spirit, etc., etc., exhorting 
 them to consider themselves in their baptism made mem- 
 bers of Christ, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven, I 
 ventured to ask, " Did I, sir, in my baptism, receive all the 
 advantages?" In a most ungracious manner, he replied, 
 ''Undoubtedly." — "Then, sir, allow me to ask, what can 
 I want more ? Of what use is confirmation ? " — " What do 
 you mean by asking these impertinent questions ? " — "I ask 
 for information. I came hither to be instructed." — " No, 
 you came here to instruct me ; you want to see your patron, 
 John Wesley, in the pulpit. You have no business here." — 
 " I conceive, sir, I have business here ; I am one of 3^our 
 parish. I was warned to attend, for the purpose of receiv- 
 ing instruction ; and to whom sjiould I apply but to my 
 minister?" He deigned not to answer me, but when we 
 again assembled, I observed, " I remember, sir, when we 
 wxre last here, you told us there was no such thing as a 
 feeling operation of the Spirit of God ; I request, therefore, 
 to know how we are to understand that article of our 
 church, which pronounces the doctrine of election full of 
 espe'cial comfort to all godly persons, and such as feel in 
 themselves the workings of the Spirit of the Lord ? " — " You 
 have nothing to do with the articles ; you do not under- 
 stand them." — "I should suppose, sir, that ever}^ member 
 of a church had something to do with the articles of his 
 church ; and if I do not understand them, suffer me to 
 come to you for information." — " You are an impertinent 
 fellow, and if you thus proceed I shall order the clerk to 
 put you out of the church." — "You may order me out your- 
 self, sir : only tell me to go, and I will instantly depart. ' 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHy MURRAY. 43 
 
 Not another syllable was uttered to me upon this occasion. 
 But upon the following Sunda}', when the young people of 
 the congregation were again to be catechized, I appeared 
 with the rest, and our teacher uttered a severe and pointed 
 sarcasm. I was sufficiently abashed to cover m}'' face with 
 my hat, when, in a very angry tone, he commanded me to 
 depart from the church, he would suffer no laughter there. 
 I assured this Christian preacher that I did not laugh, that 
 I felt no disposition to laugh. He insisted that I did, and 
 with great confusion I withdrew from the altar ; but wait- 
 ing for him in the porch of the church, I humbly implored 
 his pardon, while I informed him that he had done me 
 much wrong ; that I had too sacred a veneration for the 
 place I was in, to deport m3'self unbecomingl}^ while under 
 its roof; that I had not the smallest inclination to mirth ; 
 that the consideration of his denying the operation of the 
 Spirit upon the heart had too much disturbed and grieved 
 me. '' Well, I do still say, there is no especial operation 
 of the Spirit ; 1 have never experienced anything of this 
 description." — " How, then, suffer me to ask, could you say, 
 when you were ordained, that you felt 3'ourself moved by 
 the Hoh" Ghost to take upon you the office of a teacher?" 
 — " You know nothing of the matter ; j'ou are very imperti- 
 nent." Many were standing by, who seemed pleased 
 with the advantage I had so apparent!}^ gained, and while 
 thus remunerated for the insult 1 had received, I returned 
 home in triumph. 
 
 Some time after, as I was passing the street, one of my 
 acquaintance asked me if I knew the bishop was at that 
 moment engaged in confirming the young people of our 
 parish. I instantly repaired to the church, and, to my 
 great surprise, found the information correct ; my good 
 
44 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 priest had not intended I should be apprised of the busi- 
 ness. I advanced, however, to the altar, and presented 
 myself to the bislioj). My priest appeared exceedingly 
 irritated, and made a communication to the bishop, in a 
 tone too low to be understood by me; but his lordship 
 replied aloud, "It is of no consequence what they are, pro- 
 vided they understand what they are about." From this 
 reply I concluded the priest had accused me of Method- 
 ism. It happened that I was the first of the circle \)yq- 
 sented round the altar, and he began as follows: — 
 
 JSis/io]). — What is your business here? 
 
 Murray. — My lord, when I was baptized, my sponsors 
 promised, in my name, to renounce the devil and all his 
 works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, with 
 all the sinful lusts of the flesh. They engaged also that, 
 so soon as I should have learned the creed, the Lord's 
 prayer, and the ten commandments, they would introduce 
 me to this ordinance. As, however, they have neglected 
 so to do, I beg leave to present myself. 
 
 Bishop. — What idea have you of this ordinance ? 
 
 JSLirraii. — I conceive, my lord, that the engagements 
 entered into at my baptism cannot be fulfilled without the 
 aid and o]>eration of the Spirit of the Lord; and I am 
 taught to consider this ordinance as a means of grace, 
 through wliicli I may obtain tlie aid of the Holy Spirit, so 
 requisite to my well-doing. 
 
 Bishop. — (With a softened voice.) Have you ever been 
 at the communion ? 
 
 Murray. — Yes, my lord, and aUhough I ventured at 
 first with fear and trembling, yet deriving therefrom real 
 consolation., I have never yet absented myself." . 
 
 " You are right," said the bishop, and immediately laying 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 45 
 
 his hands upon my head, he prayed for me, with the greatest 
 apparent fervor. Turning to a lad who stood next me, he 
 asked him the same question he had previously addressed to 
 me ; he was unprovided with an answer. " This is astonish- 
 ing," said the bishop. " I should have thought you would 
 at least have learned to answer from the 3^outh who spoke 
 before you ; " and he gave my priest a glance which called 
 the blush of confusion into his face. I was extremely grat- 
 ified ; so were my friends in general, and my pious father in 
 particular. Mr. John Wesley now made us a visit ; he paid 
 me the most distinguishing attention, and the regards of 
 such a man were, to a 3^oung heart, truly flattering. He 
 cherished the idea that I should shortly become a useful 
 laborer in the field which he so sedulously cultivated. One 
 thing, however, gave him anxiety, — the probability that I 
 had imbibed my father's damnable principles, for such he 
 denominated the Calvinistic tenets ; yet he hoped better 
 things of me, and things which accompanied salvation. 
 When in my father's house he manifested toward him the 
 greatest kindness and friendship : but on leaving the coun- 
 try he charged his followers to keep a strict watch over 
 him, lest, through the influence of his great piety, he should 
 infuse his abominable sentiments into the minds of some 
 of the brethren. Mr. Wesley's disciples considered him 
 the apostle of the age, and I experienced a reverential awe 
 in his presence ; yet there were points in his conduct which 
 excited my wonder, and which, in any other character, I 
 should not have hesitated to pronounce wrong ; but I should 
 have believed it criminal even to suspect that he could err. 
 My religion was becoming more and more formal ; it seemed 
 a body without a soul. Sometimes, indeed, when listening 
 to a lively, warm-hearted preacher, I was made most keen- 
 
46 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 ly to feci the poverty of my condition ; that, while I was 
 believed rich and increasing in goods, liaving need of noth- 
 ing, I was in troth miserably pooi-, blind, and naked. This 
 consideration often rendered me sad. In |)roportion as I 
 appeared to suffer, I became the object of respectful atten- 
 tion. Glooms and melancholy were considered as infallible 
 signs of a gracious disposition, not only by my father, but 
 by all my religious connexions. One of our preachers, used 
 to say, he had rather be in the company of a thousand 
 demons than ten laughing persons ! Unfortunately for the 
 maintenance of my standing in the society, my sadness 
 was not imiform, and, preserving no medium, I always 
 became gay in full proportion to my previous depression; 
 and, in truth, cheerfulness was becoming the prevailing 
 temper of my mind, and I know not liow long it might liave 
 continued so, if I had not observed, to my great consterna- 
 tion, that I was daily losing ground in the estimation of 
 my associates. This conviction banished my dangerous 
 vivacity, and restored my respectability. I now sedulously 
 avoided society, and frequently envied those who were 
 released from this dangerous world. I have often, after a 
 night of suffering, risen with the dawn, and, entering the 
 church-yard, have passed liours there, contemplating the 
 lia])})y state of those who were lodged in their narrow house, 
 and ardently longing to be as they were. Even my father 
 began to fear that I was rapidly declining, and by his con- 
 sequent tenderness I was beyond expression touched. 
 
 I cannot noAV determine how long this frame of mind 
 continued; but this I know, that it lasted long enough to 
 gain me more reputation, both at home and abroad, than 
 I had lost. There was such a variety in my feelings, the 
 changes in my spirits from sad to gay, from gay to sad, 
 
LIFE OF UEW JOnS MiUllAY. 47 
 
 were so frequent, that I had, of course, far more experience 
 than any other person of my age. The young, when under 
 awakenings, always resorted to me for comfort and informa- 
 tion, while the old hung with delight on my narrations. 
 The prayers of my father obtained due credit ; the child of 
 so many ])rayers could only be as I was. I was at this 
 time about sixteen years of age ; but commencing life so 
 early, I felt like twenty, and I anticipated all the enjoy- 
 ments which awaited me. 
 
 About this period (1757) our society was gratified by a 
 most unexpected acquisition. A gentleman of great for- 
 tune, who had been a virulent opponent of the Methodists, 
 became a zealous convert to their tenets, and with his lady 
 joined our congregation. Xo event had ever given such 
 exultation, such complete satisfaction. They had belonged 
 to the Presbyterian meeting, and their numerous kindred, 
 worshipping there, continued inveterate adversaries. Be- 
 tween my father and the new convert the Avarmest friend- 
 ship took place ; and his good lady, who was indeed one of 
 the first of women, l)ecame as warmly attached to our 
 family as her husband. They had been converted at the 
 same time ; and as new converts are always the most zeal- 
 ous, this good couple, although advanced in years, used to 
 rise at four in the morning, in the depth of winter, and go 
 round among the neighbors, in order to rouse them in time 
 to attend morning service, which was regularly at live 
 o'clock, winter and summer. Our house being in the Avay, 
 they never omitted calling upon us. My father was not 
 always well enough to accomj^any them, but I never failed, 
 and the delight they took in me -was great. Their family 
 consisted of two sons, one older than myself, and one of 
 my own age, and two daughters younger than their broth- 
 
48 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ers. For a long season this family and ours spent at least 
 a part of every day together. They met constantly at 
 church, and had beside many private interviews. Mr. Lit- 
 tle, the name of our new friend, belonged to a class of 
 which my father was the leader, and Mrs. Little to my 
 mother's band. The classes generall}^ consisted of twelve,' 
 beside the leader. The band was formed from the classes, 
 and consisted of six beside the leader. These bands were 
 composed of true believers, and of one sex and condition : 
 the single women, the married women, and the widows ; 
 the single men, the married men, and the widowers. My 
 mother was a leader of a band of married women. The 
 youth I have mentioned, of my own age, sought and ob- 
 tained my confidence. I conceived for him the warmest 
 affection, and 1 had every reason to suppose the attach- 
 ment mutual. We passed many delightful hours together, 
 and the discovery of our friendship gave real satisfaction 
 to our parents. The eldest son adhered to the church the 
 famil}^ had left ; and tne only daughter who was of age to 
 decide embraced the principles of her parents. From our 
 connection with these worthy people I derived great pleas- 
 ure. I was much beloved by the principals of the family, 
 and I had great delight in the society of their children. 
 I have frequentl}^ retired with my young friend to read and 
 pray ; we had, in fact, no solitary pleasures. It was in the 
 closet of this friend that I first became acquainted with 
 Addison, Pope, Parnell, Thomson, and Shakespeare ; we 
 read those writings together. Never shall I forget the 
 avidity with which I seized, and the delight with which 1 
 perused, those authors. I was bej^ond expression fascinated 
 by their numbers ; but I thought best carefully to conceal 
 this new source of enjoyment from my father. The library, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 49 
 
 to which I thus obtained free access, was very extensive ; 
 besides the books already named, it contained much to at- 
 tract a young mind : novels, essays, and histories, by a 
 frequent perusal of which, I was both informed and im- 
 proved. Thus, in the full enjo3'ment of sweet serenity, 
 glided on man}' liapp}^ months ; m}" time was divided be- 
 tween the habitation of m}^ father and his friends. I en- 
 joyed the warm regards of ever}' individual of this amiable 
 famil}^, the eldest son excepted ; nor was he a malignant 
 foe ; he contented himself with making a jest of our devo- 
 tion, which only served to attach us more closely to each 
 other ; but as the affection of the 3'oungest son grew for 
 me, it appeared to diminish for his brother. This fact ren- 
 dered his parents unhappy, and I mj'self was seriously 
 afflicted, lest I should be regarded, either directl}" or indi- 
 rectl}', as the source of their inquietude. They, however, 
 did not hesitate to impute to their eldest son's aversion 
 from religion everything unpleasant between their children, 
 and I had credit for my full share of that rectitude and cor- 
 rect conduct, to which their youngest son was, by nature, 
 so uniformly inclined. It must, however, be confessed, 
 that the first-born was not without causes of irritation. I 
 was evidently the brother of his brother's affection ; I was 
 the object of his parents* regard. His eldest sister dis- 
 covered, on all occasions, a very strong partiality for me, 
 and even the youngest, a child of about six 3'ears old, made 
 me the confidant of all her little secrets, often hung about 
 my neck with infantile fondness, while her sweet endear- 
 ments were precious to my heart. It was not, then, I re- 
 peat, very wonderful, if the 3'oung gentleman, who felt 
 himself aggrieved^ should become very unhappy, and very 
 much my enemy. While I was thus considered as a child 
 4 
 
50 L^^^ OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 of tliis family, a young lady, a distant relation of Mrs. 
 Little, was introduced as a visitor ; she, also, was a Metho- 
 dist, and of great piety. My young friend and myself 
 were in the 2)arlor when she entered, but soon withdrew, 
 when we both agreed she Avas the most ordinary young 
 woman we had ever beheld. She w^as, I presume, more 
 than twenty-five years of age, under the common stature, 
 of a very sallow comj^lexion, large features, and a dis- 
 agreeable cast in her eye ; yet this same young lady had not 
 been more than three weeks under the same roof with us, 
 before we both became violently in love with her. Many 
 days, however, elapsed, before either became acquainted 
 with the passion of the other ; but I could never conceal 
 anything long, especially from this my second self ; and on 
 a summer evening, as we pursued our usual walk through a 
 flowery mead, on the margin of a beautiful river, both sadly 
 pensive and sighing, as if our hearts were breaking, my 
 friend mournfully inquired, "What, my dear Murray, 
 afflicts you? Why are you so sad?" "I am ashamed of my- 
 self; I cannot tell you the cause of my distress." "Not tell 
 me! would you, can you, conceal anything from me?" I 
 felt the full force of a question, asked in a tone of endear- 
 ing sympathy. "No, my friend, you shall be made ac. 
 quainted with my whole heart. I will have no reserves to 
 you^ but 2/ow, you., also, are unhappy, and I am ignorant 
 of the cause!" "Depend on it, I shall not hesitate to give 
 you every mark of confidence, when you shall set the exam- 
 ple." "Well, then, my brother, my friend, will you not 
 wonder (and indeed I am myself astonished) when I as- 
 sure you that I have conceived for Miss Dupee the strong- 
 est and most tender passion ! " He started, appeared con- 
 fused, and for some moments we both continued silent. At 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. ^f 
 
 length, taking my hand, he said, "I pity you, from my 
 soul, nor do I blame your attachment ; for, however unat- 
 tractive in person, who that hears Miss Dupee converse, 
 who that has any knowledge of her mind, can avoid loving 
 her, even as you love her ; and to prove to you how fully 
 I am qualified to sympathize with you, let me frankly own 
 that I also love this charming woman." 
 
 This unexpected avowal greatly afflicted me. I trem- 
 bled lest so strong a passion for the same object should 
 eventually prove fatal to our friendship. I expressed to 
 this dear, amiable youth my aj^prehensions, when he caught 
 my hand, and with glistening eyes exclaimed, "Xever, my 
 brother, no, never, shall anything sej^arate between thee 
 and me. By first communicating your sentiments, you 
 have acquired a jyt'ior right, which I will not, dare not, in- 
 vade. No one else shall hear of my infant love. I will not 
 allow myself to see her but when seated by your side ; and 
 although I love her more than anybody I ever have, or, as 
 I believe, ever shall see, I never will be the cause of your 
 imhappiness." This generosity was truly affecting. I 
 caught him to my bosom. I wept ; I even sobbed as I held 
 him to my heart ; and, unable to bear his superiority, I 
 exclaimed, " No, my noble-hearted friend, never will I ac- 
 cept such a sacrifice. We are yet to learn for which of us 
 her heavenly Father has designed this treasure. Let us 
 both, as occasion may occur, indulge ourselves in her soci- 
 ety, and, should the event prove that you are the highly 
 favored mortal, I hope, and believe, I shall willingly resign 
 her, and content myself with listening to her heavenly 
 accents." And, truth to say, she possessed a most enchant- 
 ing voice ; a most fascinating manner, admirably calculated 
 to gain hearts, especially young hearts, simple, and soft- 
 
52 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ened by religion ; and, what was above all bewitching, she 
 sang the most divine of Mr. Wesley's hymns in a most 
 divinely impressive manner. While, however, we were mutu- 
 ally acceding to this wise plan for the disposal of Miss Dupee, 
 it never once entered into our heads that she very possiblv 
 was not designed for either of us. Perhaps few youthful 
 bosoms have ever endured a greater conflict between lov- 
 and friendship. We experienced both in no common degret 
 but friendship in both our hearts became triumphant. The 
 amiable woman continued for some time decidedly the 
 object of our deliberate election ; but I had, however, rea- 
 son to believe my attachment the strongest, for it deprived 
 me of both rest and appetite. For the first time, I began 
 to tag rhymes. I have sat by the hour together upon an 
 eminence, whence I could behold her habitation, poetizing 
 and sighing as if my heart would break. I had some rea- 
 son to believe she had discovered and was diverted with 
 my passion ; indeed, she must have laughed at me, if she 
 had not despised me. After a long struggle between my 
 hopes and my fears I ventured to address a letter to Miss 
 Dupee, filled with the warmest professions of eternal affec- 
 tion and conjuring her at least to grant me leave to hope, 
 I dared not entrust a domestic with this letter, lest it should 
 be discovered by m}^ father ; for the dread of meeting a 
 refusal from my mistress was not more terrible to m}^ imag- 
 ination than that my father should obtain knowledge of 
 my temerit}^ One night, therefore, returning from the 
 society with fear and trembling, I put my letter into her 
 hand, humbly requesting she would honor it with a secret 
 perusal. She took it, and, gypsy as she was, absolutely 
 pressed my hand, which pressure almost suffocated me with 
 transport. I parted from her at the door, and from that 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 53 
 
 moment neither slept nor ate, till I was cured., radically 
 cured. 
 
 It was upon a' Wednesday night I delivered my letter. 
 What did I not suffer from the torture of suspense, until 
 Friday e v^ening ! Nothing could I hear of or from her. I was 
 afraid to go to Mr. Little's. I feared everything, but the 
 thing I had most reason to fear, — the contempt and indig- 
 nation of my own father. It never once entered my thoughts 
 that she would communicate my letter to any one, and, least 
 of all, that slie would expose me to my father; but instead 
 of writing me an answer, such an answer as my fond, fool- 
 ish heart sometimes ventured to expect, she enclosed my 
 very first love-letter to the very last person in the world to 
 whom I should have chosen to confide it ! I was at this 
 time debilitated by the want of rest and food, which, for 
 the preceding fortnight, I had rarely taken ; and upon this 
 Friday evening, as I entered the presence of my father, an 
 unusual dread pervaded my spirits. It is too true I never 
 appeared before him without apprehension ; but upon 
 this occasion I was unusually agitated ; but how were 
 my terrors augmented, when my father, Avith a coun- 
 tenance of the most solemn indignation, ordered me to 
 approach! The season of castigation had gone by; in- 
 deed my father was too feeble to administer corporeal 
 chastisement ; but, like the Prince of Denmark, although he 
 did not use daggers, he could speak them — he could look 
 them. I cannot now remember who, or rather how many, 
 were present ; my mother, and my brothers and sisters, of 
 course. My poor mother, I am confident, felt keenly for me, 
 although she dared not interfere. "Come hither, sir," said 
 my father ; "approach, I say." I drew near with fear and 
 trembling, but yet I knew not Avhy ; when, fixing his pierc- 
 
54 LIFE OF II KV. JORX MURRAY. 
 
 ing, peneti-ating eyes upon me, with a look of such 
 sovereign contempt as almost struck me blind, he began 
 very deliberatel}^ to search his pockets. After a pause, which 
 seemed interminable, out came a letter. I was instantane- 
 ously covered witli a most profuse perspiration ; I trembled, 
 and became so faint that I was obliged to catch at a chair 
 for support. But my father continued slowly opening the 
 killing letter, and, looking alternately at it and its author, 
 and curling his nose as if his olfactory nerve had been an- 
 noyed by something extremely offensive, he again fixed his 
 eyes upon me, and tauntingly said, " So, you poor, fool- 
 ish child, you write love-letters, do you? You want a wife, 
 do you? " and, feigning an attempt to read it, but pretend- 
 ing inabilit}^, he extended it to me, saying, " Take it, thou 
 love-sick swain, and let us hear how thou addressest thy 
 Dnlcinea." I burst into tears ; but I confess they were tears 
 of wrathful indignation, and at that moment I detested the 
 lady, my father, and myself. " Go," continued my fathei*, 
 — ''go, thou idle boy ; depart instantly out of my sight ; " and 
 out of his sight I accordingly went, almost wishing I might 
 never again appear before him. This night J part.'d with my 
 passion for Miss Dupee. I sighed for an opportunity of 
 opening my heart to my ever-faithful friend. I expected con- 
 solation from him, and I was not disappointed. Suspecting 
 this business was the subject of conversation in the house of 
 Mr. Little, I determined to go tliither no more. With ni}^ 
 friend, however, I took my usual walk. He perceived the sad- 
 ness of my soul ; but it was a consolation to me to learn that 
 he was ignorant of the cause. I poured my grief into his 
 bo-om, and his indignation was unbounded. Hatred for Miss 
 Dupee grew in his soul ; yet, when I knew she had the good- 
 ness never to connnunicate my folly to any one but my 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY, 55 
 
 father, and this in a private letter, I could not but esteem 
 her. So here rested the affair, and I wrote no more love- 
 letters, until I addressed the lady whom I married. Though 
 I was not b}^ this torturing business exempted from la belle 
 passion, 3^et I was prevented b}" m}" fears from its manifes- 
 tation. In fact, it was not until I was in a situation to make 
 an election, as I supposed for life, that I was again con- 
 demned to struggle with a sentiment so imposing as that 
 which had occasioned me so much vexation. Many fair 
 faces attracted, and for a time fixed my attention, and I 
 sometimes looked forward to the brightest, purest scenes of 
 domestic felicity, which were however as visionary as could 
 have been conceived in the pericranium of the most con- 
 firmed lunatic. 
 
 The religious melancholy, so pleasing to my father, again 
 took possession of my mind. Once more at early dawn I 
 haunted the church-3^ard, frequently repeating to myself: — 
 
 * ' The man how blest, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
 Is led by choice to take his favorite walk 
 Beneath death's gloomy, silent cypress shades, 
 To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
 Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs." 
 
 The intervening hours of public worship, on Sunday, were 
 passed by me at church, in appropriate meditation and 
 prayer. The solemnity of the place aided my aspirations, 
 and rendered me abundantly more gloomy ; but the versa- 
 tility of my disposition still gave me to emerge, and I was 
 then proportionably vivacious. In this zigzag manner I 
 proceeded, gaining something every day, while I enjoyed a 
 fine state of health, and the happiness of being much beloved 
 b}^ a large circle of respectable connexions. I still contin- 
 ued to cultivate my garden ; it was the best in the place, 
 
5G LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 and being seen and admired by many, my pious brethren 
 were apprehensive it would become my idol. But we all have 
 our idols. Mr. Wesley was the idol of the many. One 
 evening at a love-feast, when the whole society were assem- 
 bled, a pious sister, while narrating her experiences, looking 
 earnestly at Mr. Wesley, vehemently exclaimed, " O, sir, 
 I consider myself as much indebted to God for you as for 
 Jesus Christ ! " The whole company were greatly surprised, 
 and, as I believe, expected Mr. Wesley would have reproved 
 her for this speech; but it passed, without any then ex- 
 pressed observation. The ensuing day it became the sub- 
 ject of animadversion, when I undertook to defend her, by 
 remarking, that as she never could have had any advan- 
 tage from Jesus Christ, if she had never heard of and 
 believed in him, slie certainly was as much indebted to 
 Almighty God for sending Mr. Wesley, through whom she 
 obtained this redeeming knowledge, as for the Saviour, in 
 whom she believed ! 
 
 My close connection with my young friend, although very 
 pleasant to my social propensities, subjected me, neverthe- 
 less, to some pain. He was indulged \\\t\\ more pocket- 
 money than I could command. And although he con- 
 sidered liis stipend never so well employed as when it 
 contributed to my convenience, yet, disliking dependence, 
 I had recourse to methods of obtaining money, which did 
 not always please me. I sometimes borrowed, and some- 
 times solicited gifts from my mother, which I did not find 
 it easy to repay. It would liave been well if neither my 
 companion nor myself had been in the habit of spending 
 money; we derived therefrom no advantage: it introduced 
 us into company, where we were apt to forget ourselves. 
 It is true we were never inebriated, but we were often i^nv, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUBRAT. bl 
 
 and, for religious characters, too much off our guard. This 
 dear youth was not, like me, liabituated to religion ; he was 
 not early disciplined by its most rigid laws. I could with 
 abundantly more facility turn aside with him than he could 
 pursue with me the narrow path in which I had generally 
 walked. We became gradually too fond of pleasures which 
 would not bear examination ; yet the}' were such as 
 the world denominated innocent^ although they strongh^ 
 impelled us to gratifications disallowed by religion. We 
 were now fast advancing in life, and, with all the enthusiasm 
 of youth, we were planning schemes for futurity, when lo ! 
 my precious, my early friend was seized by a malignant 
 fever, which soon deprived him of his reason. I was on 
 the verge of distraction. I entreated permission to tarry 
 constantly b}^ his bedside. The progress of the disease was 
 astonishingly rapid, and in a few daj's this dear, this amiable 
 youth, wliom I loved as my own soul, expired in a strong 
 delirium ! Every one regretted the departure of this 3'oung 
 man ; ever}^ one sympathized with his parents, and many 
 extended pity to me. I was indeed beyond expression 
 wretched. It was the first calamit}- of the kind which I 
 had ever been called to suflTer ; and my agonies were in full 
 proportion to the strong aflTection which I had conceived 
 for the deceased. Society no longer possessed a charm 
 for me, and yet the parents of the dear departed never will- 
 ingly permitted me to quit their presence ', indeed, the love 
 they had borne their son seemed to be entirely transferred 
 to me ; but their sufferings were incalculably augmented, 
 when, in a few succeeding weeks, their eldest and only 
 surviving son fell a victim to the same fatal malady which 
 had deprived them of his brother. Never before did I wit- 
 ness such sad and heart-affecting sorrow ! A gloomy re- 
 
58 ^IFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 ligion is always increased by scenes of melancholy ; hence 
 tlie horrors of my mind were beyond description. Every- 
 thing I had done, every word I had uttered, not strictly 
 conformable to the rule of right, returned upon my mind 
 with redoubled terror, and in the midst of these agonizing- 
 fears I was violently seized with the same fever which had 
 destroyed my friend. I was, upon the first appearance of 
 this mortal disease, exceedingly alarmed, but in a few 
 hours it prostrated my reason ; my mother appeared to me 
 as a stranger, and although I recognized my father, I was 
 not afraid of him. I understood everything which was 
 said by those about me, and I suffered much in consequence 
 of their expressed apprehensions and predictions. And I 
 have often thought that attendants in the chamber of sick- 
 ness do not sufficiently consider the situation of the suffer- 
 ing patient, or the possibility that the freedom of their 
 remarks may augment his depression. I continued to 
 linger, in the midst of extreme torture, through many weeks ; 
 and so high and unremitted was my delirium, that my 
 parents, from a persuasion that, should I be restored to 
 healtli, my reason was forever lost, were reconciled to my 
 departure. One particular I consider as astonishing, — 
 everything which passed in my mind, through the whole 
 of tliis protracted delirium, I can, to this day, recollect as 
 well as any event which has taken place in any part of my 
 life. Contrary to the expectations of surrounding friends, 
 I was gradually restored to perfect health, Avhen I became 
 still more endeared to the parents of my deceased com- 
 panion ; they would have laid me in their bosoms, gladly 
 cherishing me as the son of their affection. The old gentle- 
 man visited my father every day, and his lady was equally 
 intimate with my mother. I wept with them, I prayed 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 59 
 
 with them, and every day our mutual attachment acquh*ed 
 new energy. They expressed their wishes to my father, 
 that I shoukl become a permanent resident in their family. 
 My father, apparently terrified, was unqualified in his re- 
 jection! It would injure me by too high-raised expecta- 
 tions; iL would give me indulgences fatal to my future 
 peace and happiness. For myself, I had recently enter- 
 tained an exalted opinion of my father; and for liis re- 
 peated, and, as I once believed, severe chastisements, grati- 
 tude glowed in my bosom ; consequently I was not inclined 
 lu act contrary to his wishes in any respect, and he had 
 sufiicient address to avoid offending his friends. In fact, 
 so exalted was their opinion of his wisdom and piety, that 
 tliey would have considered it criminal to censure him. 
 
 I was now the very shadow of my father. I visited, it is 
 true ; but it was always under his guardian care. He be- 
 gan to derive pleasure from conversing with me, and our 
 satisfaction was mutual. Still, however, I experienced, in 
 his i)resence, more of reverential awe than filial tenderness; 
 yet I gained more from his society in the last six months of 
 his existence than I had for many preceding years. His 
 gradual decline at length rapidly advanced ; suddenly he 
 became too much enfeebled to go abroad. His friends, who 
 were numerous, visited him frequently. Mr. Little and 
 lady were almost constantly with him. They congratulated 
 him that God had heard his prayers, and given him a son 
 to supply his place when he should be called home. This, 
 indeed, he considered as a great consolation. Often with 
 tears of pleasure has he wept over me, solemnly consecrat- 
 ing me by fervent jji'^yer and devout supplication. His 
 devotional exercises in his family were continued until the 
 last week of his existence. Even when his voice was sa 
 
60 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 low that he could scarce articulate a word, we were drawn 
 around him, when in whispers, as it were, he would, in the 
 most moving manner, address the throne of grace in our 
 behalf; and for me, as his first-born son, his orisons were 
 still more frequentl}^ offered up, and alwa3's with tears. 
 For man}' years ra}^ father had lost his apprehensions of 
 death ; but he alwa3's suffered more or less in the dread of 
 djing. The taking down the house of his earthly taberna- 
 cle ; the agonies of dissolving nature, — these anticipa- 
 tions frequently appalled his soul. We had got into Pas- 
 sion Week ; my father was taken from his bed every day 
 until Good Frida}-, when it was impressed upon his mind 
 that he should be with his Redeemer upon Easter Sunday. 
 He indirectly communicated this assurance to my mother, 
 commanding me to be immediately summoned to his pres- 
 ence, when he thus addressed me : " My son, the object of 
 m}^ soul's affection, for whom, during many years, I have 
 wept and prayed, 3'ou see your weeping, prating father, 
 now totally unable to utter a prayer, nor shall I ever pra}' 
 in this dear family" again. Let me, my dear, before I leave 
 you, have the felicitj' of seeing and hearing 3'ou take upon 
 3'ou the character 3'ou will very speedil}' be called to sus- 
 tain ; let me hear you pra3^ in the famil3' before I depart." 
 There was something terrible in the thought of his depart- 
 ure, though we had for man3' years been taught to expect 
 it, not only b3^ his declining health, but by his conversa- 
 tion, which had rendered us familiar with death. I cannot 
 remember a da3^ on which he did not, on his first appear- 
 ance in his family of a morning, say, ^^ Blessed be God, we 
 are one day nearer our eternal rest." Yet the thought of 
 assuming his place in his family, in his presence, — this 
 was more terrible to me than death itself. I became con 
 
LIFE OF liEV. JOilX MURRAY. Q\ 
 
 vulsecl ; a cold perspiration was diffused over my frame. 
 My father saw my agony, and, bidding me sit down, took 
 my hand, and, addressing me in the language of sympathy, 
 most affectionately, most tenderly said, " You have, my 
 poor boy, often addressed your heavenly Father, and have 
 not felt abashed. Ought you to venerate your feeble, earth- 
 ly father more than the God who made you? At the 
 throne of grace I am upon a level with my son, and I need 
 redeeming mercy as much as yourself. Let me, my dear 
 child, be blessed with the privilege of seeing and hearino- 
 you in your new and highly responsible character this 
 night." I was dumb, I could not speak. My mother was 
 requested to summon the family. " Come," said my father, 
 "come near me, my children. God is about to remove 
 from you your father, your supplicating fatlier ; but my 
 God, your God, will never leave you nor forsake you. He 
 will give you, in your brother, a friend, a guide, a father ; 
 you must consider him, when I am gone, as in my stead. 
 You will unite with him in prayer, you will follow his direc- 
 tion, and God will abundantly bless you together. My 
 prayers on his behalf are graciously answered. They will, 
 my beloved children, be answered on your behalf also ; for 
 he who hath promised is faitliful, your father hath proved 
 him faithful. Our God is indeed worthy to be trusted. 
 His service is perfect freedom. Serve the Lord, my chil- 
 dren, and be happy; obey your dear mother, strengthen 
 the hands of your brother, and felicity will be your por- 
 tion." He would have proceeded, but weakness prevented. 
 Recovering himself, he called upon me to make good his ex- 
 pectations. I kneeled down by his bedside in convulsive 
 agony, my mother kneeling upon the opposite side; my 
 brothers and sisters formiusf a circle Avhich surrounded it. 
 
Q2 LIFE OF RE V. JOHX MURRA Y. 
 
 while the domestics kneeled near us. I prayed, I wept, I 
 audibly sobbed ; while my, only not divine, father was in 
 ecstasy. When I had finished, "Xoav, O Lord," he ex-, 
 claimed, "let thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
 have seen, for my ears have heard, for my heart has felt, 
 thy salvation. Come near me, my darling boy." Instantly 
 I ran, and again I kneeled by his bedside ; he drew my 
 head to his bosom ; he wept over me ; but his tears were 
 tears of transport, when, laying his dying hand upon my 
 head, he thus fervently supplicated: "O thou. Almighty 
 God, who hath thus blessed, greatly blessed, thy poor ser- 
 vant; thou who hast been my God and my guide, even 
 unto death, bless, oh ! bless this son, with whom thou hast 
 blessed thy feeble supplicant. Give him thy suj^porting 
 l^resence through life, direct him in the way he should go, • 
 and never leave him nor forsake him. Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost, thou covenant-keeping God, bless, bless, oh, 
 bless this lad — " Here his heart swelled too big for utter- 
 ance ; after a few moments, recovering himself a little, he 
 mildly requested me to place him properly in his bed. I 
 was beyond measure shocked to see what a skeleton he had 
 become, his bones in many places through his skin. . It was 
 my wish to tarry with him through the night ; but I could 
 not obtain permission. "Go, my dear son," said he, "go 
 to rest, and the God of your fathers be ever with you." 
 This was the last time I ever heard his voice ; before the 
 morning dawned I was summoned to attend, not a dying, 
 but a deceased parent, whose value until that agonizing 
 moment I had never sufficiently appreciated. My mother 
 continued by his bedside, overwhelmed by sorrow. The 
 slumbers of my father were sweet, calm, and unbroken, 
 until near midnight, when she perceived he was awake, and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. (33 
 
 believing him to be speaking, she inclined her ear to his 
 lips, and heard him say, while his heart, his full heart, 
 seemed nearly bursting, "The souls of believers are at 
 tlieir death made perfectly holy, and do immediately pass 
 into glory ; but their bodies, being still united to Christ, 
 do rest in their graves till the resurrection." After a 
 pause, he resumed: "At the resurrection, they shall be 
 openly acknowledged, and acquitted in the day of judg- 
 ment, and made perfectly blessed in the full enjoyment of 
 God through eternity. Blessed, perfectly bless — " Blessed, 
 he would have said, but he breathed no more. "When I 
 approached the bed of death, I beheld the remains of the 
 dei)arted saint precisely in the position in which a few 
 hours before I had placed him. Not a single struggle had 
 the dear, apprehensive man, during those expiring moments, 
 which, through his whole life, he had expected would be 
 productive of such extreme torture. He slept in Jesus, in 
 full confidence of a glorious resurrection. 
 
 From this hour until the interment our house was 
 thronged ; but of all our numerous friends, who by their 
 presence expressed their sympathy, no individuals appeared 
 more deeply affected than my future patrons, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Little. My father was very dear to Mr. Little ; he mingled 
 his tears with the widow and her orphans. It was unneces- 
 sary to tell me I had sustained an irreparable loss ; my 
 heart, my pierced heart, was every moment making the 
 avowal. I could now fully appreciate my father's worth. 
 I felt I was bereaved, miserably bereaved ; left to myself; 
 and I knew myself well enough to justify the most sj)irit- 
 wounding apprehensions. I retired to my chamber, to my 
 closet, secretly indulging my overwhelming sorrow, and if 
 I ever experienced the fervor of devotion, it was then, 
 
64 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 when, throwing abroad my supplicating hands, I petitioned 
 the God of my father to be my God also, entreating that he 
 would graciously vouchsafe to preserve me from myself, my 
 sinful self. All the hard, undutiful reflections which I 
 had secretly tolerated against this good, this honored man, 
 while he was enduring exquisite sufferings for the purpose 
 of preserving me from evil, rushed upon my recollection, 
 and an innate monitor seemed to say, "You may now, 
 ungrateful boy, go where you please; the 2)rying eye of a 
 father will no more inspect your conduct." It was now, in 
 these moments of torture, that my father, as it should 
 seem, first became known to me. It is true, he was 
 severely good ; his conscience was indeed sorely tender ; 
 but, as far as he knew, he performed the will of God, at 
 least in as great a measure as he was able, and when he 
 believed himself deficient, as he almost always did, it gave 
 him great pain. The uniform sanctity of his life com- 
 manded the respect, the esteem, the affection, and even the 
 veneration of all who knew him. He possessed an uncom- 
 mon share of natural abilities, and his acquirements were 
 very respectable. He had read much. History, Natural Phi- 
 losophy, Poetry, these were all familiar to him ; but the 
 sacred Scriptures, and books of devotion, were his delight. 
 Human productions constituted his amusement., but the 
 Avord of his God was liis food. He was so acute a rea- 
 soner that it was diflicult to gain any advantage over him 
 in argument ; yet he was easily provoked, but immediately 
 sensible .of error. Every deviation from propriety was 
 marked by tears. He had so much self command ^^ never 
 to strike a child in a passion ; this he denominated a 
 demoniac sacrifice. He would ^rs^ correct the angry man; 
 but, liowever painful the act, he never omitted what he con- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. g5 
 
 ceived it his duty to bestow. He was a very tender- 
 liearted man, . and his prayers were rarely unaccompa- 
 nied by tears. He mourned with the mourner, for lie 
 was himself a man of sorrow. Being for the last nineteen 
 years of his life a confirmed invalid, he was constantly 
 and fervently looking toward his heavenly home, — some- 
 times with impatience, when, correcting himself, he would 
 say, "Well, well, heaven is worth waiting for; one hour 
 passed in the courts of my God will be a rich remunera- 
 tion for all terrestrial sufferings." 
 
 It is the custom in Ireland, when any person of distinc- 
 tion or respectability is called out of time, to watch 
 around the remains, nigJit as well as day, until the body 
 be entombed. The remains of my father were affection- 
 ately attended; but they were attended in an uncommon 
 manner. As he differed from others in life, so these last 
 lionors differed from those usually bestowed. The morn- 
 ing immediately succeeding hi§ demise, our friends and 
 neighbors assembled in our dwelling, when Mr. Little thus 
 addressed them : "My friends, it hath pleased God to 
 take unto himself the soul of our beloved brother. As he 
 lived, so he died, a pattern of excellence. We know, we 
 feel^ that he has not left his equal. We unite with this 
 dear family in sensibly lamenting the departure of our 
 experienced friend, our guide, our comforter." Here he 
 mingled his tears Avith those of our attendant friends. 
 After a long pause, he proceeded : "Fellow-mourners, the 
 greatest respect we can pay to the remains of our inesti- 
 mable, our heavenly guide, is to pass our time together in 
 this house of mourning, not only for him, but for our- 
 selves, in the way which would be most pleasing to him, 
 were he present ; we will, therefore, apj^ropriate our hours 
 
66 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 to reading and to prayer. One of our brethren will 
 address the throne of grace, after which I will read a ser- 
 mon, the production of Mr. Erskine, of whose writings 
 the dear departed was remarkably fond." The prayer, 
 the sermon, the concluding prayer, deeply affected every 
 one ; and the evening witnessed a renewal of these pious 
 exercises. Thus were our nights and days devoted until 
 the interment. On that day the throng was j^rodigious. 
 The worth, the good actions of my father were the theme 
 of many a tongue. His praises were echoed, and re- 
 echoed, while tears of sorrow moistened many an eye. 
 Every one bore in his, or her, hand to the graveyard a 
 sprig of bays, which, after the body was deposited, was 
 thrown over the coffin. But no words can describe my 
 agonizing, my terrific sensations, when I reflected upon the 
 charge which had devolved upon me. I remembered my 
 father's words on the evening preceding his exit, and I felt 
 myself reduced to the necessity of assuming his place in 
 the family. But how much was I to suffer by comparison 
 with him whose place I was appointed to fill ! Yet, had I 
 wished to avoid entering upon my office, my mother, the 
 friends of my father, would have borne testimony against 
 me. They thronged around me, they entreated me imme- 
 diately to take charge of the family, and to commence my 
 arduous task by devout supplications to Almighty God. 
 I complied with their united wishes ; but no tongue can 
 utter, no language can delineate, the strong emotions of 
 my soul ; again I was convulsed, again I agonized ; the 
 whole family were inexpressibly affected. It was the 
 most melancholy evening I had ever experienced. But 
 my benighted spirit was suddenly refreshed by a ray of 
 consolation, emitted by the cheering hope that my father's 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. gy 
 
 God would be my God, and that the fervent prayers he 
 liad offered up in my behalf would be answered in my 
 favor. I was encouraged, too, by my mother, and by the 
 friends of my father, w-ho besought the Lord in my be- 
 half, and who were daily reminding me of the interest 
 which my deceased j^areut unquestionably had with the 
 prayer-hearing God. 
 
 Yet, although soothed and greatly stimulated, my new 
 employment continued to distress and appall my spirit. 
 The conviction of every day assured me that I Avas un- 
 equal to the arduous task I had undertaken. My mother 
 was my ever-ready aid and counsellor; but my brothers. 
 and sisters always remembered that I was 7iot their father; 
 and they were highly displeased whenever I presumed to 
 exercise over them paternal authority. Yet this I be- 
 lieved to be my duty; and, that I might be in everything 
 like my father, I took up the rod of correction, seriously 
 chastising my brother, for the purpose of restoring him to 
 the narrow path from which he had wandered. But, 
 although I had learned of my father to use the rod, I never 
 could make it answer the same purpose ; in my hand, it 
 only served to increase the evil; it became the signal of 
 revolt ; and, while my brother continued incorrigible, my 
 other brothers and my sisters enlisted on his side. My 
 mother, dear, honored sufferer, was exceedingly distressed. 
 She had, in fact, a difficult part to act. She was fearful 
 M'hichever side she might espouse would, by creating new 
 irritation, make bad icorse; and yet, upon an occasion so 
 interesting, we would not allow her to be silent ; she must 
 positively attend to our appeals. But, however arduous 
 her task, she possessed discretion sufficient to meet it, and 
 
 ,. 
 
6g LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 to produce an ultimatum completely satisfactory to all 
 parties. 
 
 She re])lied to our remonstrances by a request to be 
 allowed until the evening succeeding our complaints for 
 serious deliberation. The interesting evening came. 
 " Come, my children, — all equally dear to my soul, — come, 
 tlie doors are now shut ; this is the time of evening ser- 
 vice. There is the chair which your pious, your affection- 
 ate father once filled. Can you remember the last time he 
 addressed you from that seat ? Let me, my dear children, 
 let me repeat, as well as my memory will permit, what he 
 said to us the last time he addressed us from that chair. 
 'Come,' said he, 'come near me, my children,' when, fold- 
 ing his arms around your elder brother, and pressing him 
 to his bosom, while shedding over him abundance of tears, 
 and pouring out his soul in supplication for him, he most 
 affectingly said, 'I am, my dear child, hastening to that 
 heaven for which I have so long waited. For you, ever 
 since you were born, I have wept and prayed ; graciously 
 hath my God inclined his ear to the voice of my supplica- 
 tion. He hath blessed me by giving me to see you, before 
 I die, prepared, by divine favor, to take my place. I leave 
 you, my dear son, to act a father's part when I shall be 
 here no more. Let your mother, your brothers, and your 
 sisters, receive from you that attention and care they can 
 no more obtain from me. But, although I shall be no more 
 with you, your God, your father's God, will never leave 
 nor forsake you. Nay, my own beatified spirit may ob- 
 tain increasing felicity, by being sometimes permitted to 
 behold the order and harmony of my beloved family, while 
 collected before the throne of grace, with the love of God 
 and love of each other glowing with divine ecstasy in 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. (39 
 
 every bosom.' It was then, my precious cbilclren, that 
 your devout fatlier clasped you separately to his bosom ; 
 you remember how he then spake to you: 'I go, my be- 
 loved children. You will no more hear my voice from this 
 chair. I shall no more be able to pray with you, to advise, 
 or to direct you. But, my children, I leave with you a 
 brother, who will perform to you the part of a father. I 
 leave him in my place. It is my command that he tread 
 in my steps as far as I have proceeded in the path of jus- 
 tice ; and, my dear children, I conjure you to attend to his 
 directions. The eldest son was, of old, the priest in the 
 family of his father. And if you love me, if you love 
 your mother, if you would prove your love to God, or even 
 to yourselves, contribute all in your power to strengthen 
 the hands of your brother.' You remember he then em- 
 braced each of you and wept over you ; and I pray you 
 to remember that you then solemnly promised to perform 
 all which your dying father directed you to perform. 
 Perhaps the saint may be at this moment beholding us in 
 this very spot, in which, a few days previous to his de- 
 parture out of time, he so affectingly, so tenderly admon- 
 ished us — " My mother paused, as influenced by sacred 
 awe of the presence she had supposed. We audibly wept, 
 we rushed into each other's arms, we embraced each other ; 
 and so long as we continued together, our affection, our 
 piety, and our devotion were uninterrupted. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 RECORD CONTINUED, UNTIL THE AUTHOR'S DEPARTURE FROM 
 IRELAND. 
 
 Launched from the shore, on life's rough ocean tost, 
 To my swollen eye my star of guidance lost; 
 Torn from my grasp, my path-directing helm, 
 While waves succeeding waves my prospects whelm. 
 
 By the malpractices of the second husband of my ma- 
 ternal grandmother, a large share of my mother's patrimony 
 passed into other hands. I accidentally obtained intelli- 
 gence of some fraudulent proceedings of the great personage 
 by Avhom it was then holden. We did not possess ability 
 to support a prosecution for the recovery of our rights. 
 Some time after the demise of my father, the person who 
 resided upon the estate was sued for rent. To this person 
 I communicated, in confidence, what I knew to be fact. 
 I assured him the great man who retained the estate had 
 no legal claim to it ; and I advised him not to pay the rent. 
 He followed my ad.vice, and the business came before a 
 court of judicature. The gentleman who sued the tenant 
 summoned me, as a witness, to prove that the tenant had 
 occupied the house the specified number of years. Thus I 
 was unexpectedly present at the trial, and the interference 
 of Providence produced a result far beyond our most san- 
 guine expectations. The tenant denied the right of the 
 landlord to demand the rent, alleging, that if he j^aid it to 
 
 70 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. ^J 
 
 him he might hereafter be compelled to pay it to another. 
 " To whom ? " interrogated the court. " To Mrs. Murray 
 and her children, to Avhom the estate in question properly 
 belongs." I was called upon for an explanation, a'nd I 
 boldly pledged myself to prove the truth of the testimony 
 delivered by the tenant ; adding that I could make such a 
 statement as would render the affair abundantly clear to 
 their honors. I was immediately silenced by the lawyers 
 upon the opposite side, who produced a deed of the con- 
 tested property, signed, sealed, and delivered. I then 
 requested the indulgence of the honorable court, while I 
 observed, that, as I Avas not sufKciently opulent to procure 
 counsel, I presumed to solicit permission to plead my own 
 cause. Full consent was unhesitatingly granted ; when I 
 proved, to the satisfaction of the court and jury, that this 
 deed Avas signed after the death of the husband of my 
 grandmother ; and further, that, had the man been living, 
 the right of disposal was not vested in him. I consumed a 
 full hour and a half in unfolding a scene of wickedness 
 not to be defended ; and I closed by grateful acknowledg- 
 ments to their honors for the patience they had exercised. 
 The jury retired, and speedily returned with a verdict in 
 favor of the tenant. I immedicvtely entered my claim, and 
 a trial commenced, which terminated in my favor; and I 
 not only obtained the house in question, but two others, in 
 like circumstances, to the no small satisfaction of the pub- 
 lic and the mortification of the great man and his lawyers. 
 We immediately took possession of the house ; and our 
 utmost gratitude to that God who had interjDOsed for us 
 was most powerfully excited. Here I had a very large, 
 and, in no long time, a very well-improved garden, abound- 
 ing with everything useful and beautiful ; herbs, fruits, and 
 
^2 LIFE OF HE V. JOHX MURRA Y. 
 
 flowers, in great abundance ; and my situation was fully 
 adequate to my wishes. Harmony presided in our family ; 
 but, alas ! gradually, as by common consent, we grew more 
 careless of our domestic duties, and more attentive to jjub- 
 lic affairs ; deriving a kind of amusement from what was 
 passing abroad, which Ave could not obtain at home. We 
 had many visitors, and, consequently, we frequently vis- 
 ited ; yet no individuals were so dear to us as were Mr. 
 Little and his amiable family. I have repeatedly observed 
 that both Mr. Little and his lady had, from tlie death of 
 their sons, regarded me even with parental affection. I 
 was only not an inmate in their dwelling; and, but for the 
 charge which the demise of my father had devolved upon 
 me, they would not so long have delayed proposals, which, 
 in a most serious manner, they ultimately made to my 
 mother. 3Ir. Little was rather advanced in years. He 
 commenced his career without property ; but he was pru- 
 dent and industrious ; his lady was equally so. She brought 
 her husband no more than one hundred pounds sterling; 
 but slie was a portion in herself. Althougli uncommonly 
 economical and careful, her charities were yet very exten- 
 sive. She could assist, she observed, the children of 
 penury without loss ; for her resource was her own aug* 
 mentcd industry. Wlien tliis amiable cou])le became 
 known to us they possessed immense wealth ; and they 
 had now but two surviving children, — daugliters. We 
 were i)assing a pleasant evening in their hospitable dwell- 
 ing, throwing the eye of retrospection over past scenes, 
 until our hearts were greatly softened. The departed sons, 
 the deceased husband and father, passed in review, and 
 were alternately the subject of conversation and regret. 
 At length Mr. Little thus addressed us : " I have lost my 
 
LIFE OF llEV. JO fix MURRAY. 73 
 
 sons, and I have long viewed you, my young friend, in the 
 stead of my buried children. It is true, I have many 
 nephews, and I am urgently solicited to receive one of them 
 under my roof; but I do not feel a freedom so to do, 
 although I must absolutely have some one to assist me in 
 the arrangement of my affairs; and I now tender to you, 
 my dear young man, to yon, who have so long been beloved 
 by every individual of my family, — I offer to you the 
 place of a son in my house, in my heart. And if you, 
 madam, will consent, and your son, thus sanctioned, will 
 accept my proposal, he shall immediately tai^e possession 
 of the apartment of his deceased friend (my lamented son), 
 and I shall bless God fur thus making up my loss." Mrs. 
 Little, who sat by bathed in tears, most cordially united her 
 solicitations. The offer was too great to be rejected. We 
 accepted it with becoming gratitude, and what rendered a 
 proposal so liberal abundantly more pleasing, was an 
 appearance on the part of our benefactors of having re- 
 mi'ec? instead of conferred an obligation. I attended my 
 mother home with mingled sensations of pain and pleas- 
 ure : pnin, from the consideration that I was leaving a 
 family which I had been accustomed to view as, in a very 
 tender sense, my own, and with which I should never, 
 perhai^s, in like manner, again associate ; pleasure, from 
 the reflection that I was entering upon a new scene of life, 
 from which T had a prospect, not only of independence, but 
 afiiuence. It is true, upon my departure, which took place 
 upon the succeeding morning, I wept bitterly; so did my 
 widowed mother and her children; and my tears again 
 flowed, upon entering the apartments of my dear young 
 friend, Avith whom I had passed so many pleasing hours. 
 But I was received by my new parents and sisters as the 
 
74 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 dearest of sons, and as the brother of their affection. Joy 
 soon exhilarated my spirits, and brightened upon my coun- 
 tenance. I had the warm congratulations of all my 
 friends ; for it was noised abroad that this very opulent 
 gentleman had adopted me as his son, and they went so 
 far as to add, his son and heir. All this was very pleasing 
 to me, but the kindred of Mr. Little were of course highly 
 irritated ; and I became so much the object of their envy 
 and their hatred, that, whenever they visited their uncle, 
 without deigning to speak to me, they studiously sought 
 opportunities of insulting me. This gave me pain, but it 
 did me no real injury ; for, upon every instance of invidi- 
 ous conduct toward me, my parental friends and their 
 family, especially their daughters, studiously augmented 
 their testimonies of esteem and affection. 
 
 After I had passed some months with Mr. Little, he was 
 visited by a young preacher just entering the sacerdotal 
 character, to whom I was much attached, and our friend- 
 ship was mutual. I was prevailed upon by this preacher 
 to accompany him upon a little journey. I departed with 
 tlie sanction of my patron. I had, in the societies with 
 which I had been connected, occasionally exhorted ; and I 
 had been frequently urged by several of their preachers to 
 aid them in their labors. L^pon this journey I was, if I 
 may so express myself, absolutely ensnared. Accompany- 
 ing my friend to the assembled congregation, with an 
 expectation of hearing him, he put his arm under mine, 
 and helj^ting me to ascend the temporary pulpit erected for 
 the occasion, he suddenly quitted me, and I was in a man- 
 ner constrained to speak to the multitude. Thus, for the 
 first time, I preached to a large concourse of serious and 
 attentive hearers in public; and, although at the ap- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 75 
 
 pointed time I returned to my much-loved home, I con- 
 tinued, as oi^portunity offered, from that time forward, 
 preaching wlienever I journeyed, and even at home wlien 
 necessitated by the absence of the preacher. This made 
 some noise in our little world ; but, as it was not displeas- 
 ing to my honored friends, I was not dissatisfied. My in- 
 veterate enemies, however, being the nearest relations of 
 the family in which I resided, were constantly endeavoring 
 to undermine my interest in the heart of their kinsman. 
 I was to pass some time in a neighboring city ; and, to 
 render my visit more pleasing, my patron, at my depar- 
 ture, furnished me with a sum of money. This sum T care- 
 lessly put into my pocket without examination, until, call- 
 ing in my way upon my mother, I discovered that my 
 patron had, as I supposed, made a capital mistake, — that 
 he had given me gold instead of silver. I mentioned this 
 circumstance to my mother in presence of one of her 
 neighbors; and, without announcing my design, I imme- 
 diately returned home for the purpose of rectifying the 
 error. Upon my unexpected appearance before Mr. Little 
 with information of his mistake, he smiled, and said that 
 he never kept his gold and silver together. " It was my 
 desi^rn," said he, " to give you gold ; but I advise you not 
 to throw it awav." I pursued my journey and passed my 
 time airreeably ; but whether I threw^ away the bounty of 
 my benefactor, I do not at this j)eriod recollect. I only 
 know that I brought not a shilling home with me ; in fact, 
 I was never sufficiently sensible of the value of money to 
 retain it in my possession. I was received, on my return 
 from this visit, with uncommon pleasure ; and some time 
 after, my kind patron, taking me into his private apart- 
 ment, thus addressed me: "I need not, my dear, inform 
 
7 (J LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 you that you have many enemies, and I regret to say that 
 those enemies are among my nearest relatives ; but con- 
 tinuing in the j^aths of rectitude, you will be beyond the 
 reach of their most malignant calumnies. Soon after you 
 left home the other day, the clergyman who has recently 
 become the husband of my niece called upon me request- 
 ing a private audience; and, Avhen retired into this room, 
 he observed that he conceived himself in duty bound to 
 apprise me that I was not sufficiently acquainted Avith the 
 cliaracter of the person I had adopted; tliat he was not 
 honest; that he had obtained money from me to wdiich he 
 had no right. 'You gave him, sir, as you believed, some 
 pieces of silver; but, upon examination, they proved to be 
 guineas. Tliis fact I can prove ; and, if he could thus act, 
 what may lie not do?' I told this officious gentleman that 
 I had really intended to give you gold ; but that you, con- 
 ceiving I had made a mistake, forbore to appropriate the 
 money, and speedily returned home for the purpose of 
 making tlie communication. Our clergyman departed, 
 and, you will easily conceive, not a little liumbled. I 
 mention tliis cii'cumstance to you, my son, to put you 
 upon your guard. It is my wish that in future you should 
 not be so communicative." Tliis little anecdote was ex- 
 ultingly repeated to me by the good lady and her daugh- 
 ters, who never failed triumphantly to report every little 
 occurrence wdiich they believed would contribute either to 
 my pleasure or reputation. 
 
 My establishment in this family rendered me an object 
 of envy, even among some of my religious connections. 
 Objections were raised against my supposed erroneous sen- 
 timents. I was more than suspected of retaining my father's 
 Calvinistic doctrines. Mr. AYesley received information 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MCIUIAY. 'JJ 
 
 against me. He set a watch over me ; tlius fixing upon me 
 the evil eye of suspicion. A maiden sister, considerably 
 advanced in years, became a dependent resident in the 
 family of her brother. Her character was marked by 
 duplicity, and she delighted in mischief. The tales she 
 propagated were as vai-ious as the parties which listened 
 to her narrations ; and all lier communications were made 
 under the strict seal of secrecy. Young and unsuspect- 
 ing, I found it difficult to encounter enemies of such 
 oj^posite descriptions. I had some friends, of Avhose affec- 
 tion I doubted not ; with these friends I passed much 
 time, and I communicated to them everything, and they, 
 in their turn, communicated everything to me ; while 
 many circumstances tlius confided were, to my great 
 astonishment, in circulation. My situation became un- 
 easy to me. I was fond of being in company abroad : 
 this was very disagreeable to my friends at home. They 
 expected in me a friend and companion, who would, by 
 reading and conversation, give to their fireside new 
 charms ; and both parents and daughters were mortified 
 and disappointed. Mr. Little expressed his disapproba- 
 tion of my frequent Jibsences. I was hurt. Mrs. Little 
 shed tears, and entreated me to change my conduct. 
 " You have," said she, " in this wide world no such friends 
 as we are disposed to prove ourselves ; you will be abun- 
 dantly more happy at home than you can be abroad. You 
 should supply to us the place of our deceased children ; 
 we expect consolation from your society. You are greatly 
 beloved in this house ; your enemies are not under this 
 roof. For God's sake, if you have any regard for us ; if 
 you have any regard for any of your friends ; if you would 
 secure your own happiness, or the happiness of your 
 
LIFE OF llEV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 mother, do not thus conduct." Thus, Avith many en- 
 treaties, did this dear, affectionate Lady endeavor to arrest 
 my wandering ; and while attending to her friendly lec- 
 tures my best resolutions were in full force, and I deter- 
 mined never to offend again. But, going out to meeting, 
 one and another of my religious connections would take 
 me by the arm. I could not avoid engagements ; and 
 when I returned home, every individual of the family, 
 Miss Little excepted, had frequently retired to rest. 
 The good girl waited to apprise me of her father's dis- 
 pleasure. Much did she expostulate ; and her expostula- 
 tions were not always unmingled with tears. My mother 
 was rendered extremely wretched. I saw the gathering 
 storm, but I had not sufficient fortitude to abide its rav- 
 ages. My enemies derived consolation from my indiscre- 
 tion, and my infelicities daily augmented. Whenever I 
 was censured I was rendered more abundantly unhappy ; 
 nnd I formed a serious resolution to quit both the family 
 of Mr. Little and the country, and to seek an asylum in 
 my native place, — England. For many days I contiimed 
 -obdurate ; no remonstrances could influence me. I must 
 absolutely commence a traveller ; I must go to England. 
 I had no object, yet I must depart for England ; I could 
 not tell why, indeed. It was believed I was distracted. 
 What, relinquish fortune, and such connections, and such 
 a prospect ? — for it was generally believed that I was to 
 be united in marriage with Miss Little. Nay, her father 
 was informed by his kindred that I was absolutely clan- 
 destinely seeking to gain the affections of the young lady, 
 and that they believed I was already in possession of her 
 heart. But Mr. Little gave no credit to this report ; he 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY 79 
 
 knew that my evenings were passed abroad, and that this 
 was the only source of dissatisfaction. 
 
 It happened, however, one evening when I had been out 
 late, and he, according to custom, retired to rest, I found, 
 on my return home. Miss Little waiting in the parlor, for 
 the purpose of making a communication, which she con- 
 ceived would be of consequence to me. We sat some time in 
 conversation by which we were mutually interested. She 
 made known to me the invidious remarks of her uncles and 
 aunts, and their displeasure at her for not uniting Avith 
 them in their sentiments. She dwelt upon the grief which 
 my inattention to the wishes of her parents occasioned 
 them ; and upon this part of her subject she became affected 
 even to tears. I, also, was greatly affected, and for the 
 first time in my life, taking her hand, I impressed upon it 
 a kiss of fraternal affection, when, to our great astonish- 
 ment, her father entered the apartment. Had we seen a 
 spectre we could not have been more appalled. He stood 
 for some moments speechless, until, fixing his eyes in- 
 dignantly on my face, which was certainly covered with 
 confusion, in a very pointed and significant manner he 
 said, " So, sir!'' and taking his daughter by the hand, he 
 conducted her from the parlor, leaving me to my own re- 
 flections. TTords are inadequate to the description of my 
 agonies during the residue of that night. An idea of Miss 
 Little in any other character than that of a very dear 
 sister had never crossed my mind. Yet suspicion was 
 now furnished with a weapon against me, which would 
 abundantly enforce the report retailed to Mr. Little by 
 his kindred. I have often wondered that, at an age so 
 susceptible of impression, I did not become more warmly 
 attached to Miss Little. She was a most lovely and amia- 
 
gQ LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ble young woman. And she certainly gave me every 
 reason, which a modest, delicate, and sensible female could 
 give, to believe she was not absolutely disinclined to listen 
 to a tale of love. My apathy can only be accounted for 
 by a recurrence to an unquestionable fact : my heart was 
 wholly engrossed by my religious connections. I passed 
 this memorable night in my chamber without entering my 
 bed. I descended the stairs in the morning with the feel- 
 ino- of a malefactor. I dreaded the sight of every one in 
 the house. Mr. Little saw me, but spake not to me. Mrs. 
 Little addressed me in the language of kindness. Their 
 daughter was not present, and I am persuaded she was not 
 reduced to the necessity oi feigning indisposition as a pre- 
 tence for absence. After breakfast Mrs. Little, in a whis- 
 per, directed me to retire into the back parlor, where she 
 would speedily join me. With trembling dread I obeyed. 
 She soon appeared; the shutters were closed, just light 
 enough to see her, and be seen by her. I saw she had 
 been in tears : she was a most kind-hearted lady. I could 
 not speak. She commanded me to be seated. I drew a 
 chair for her, and another for myself. She sat down, and 
 I seated myself by her. After a pause, she began : " Tell 
 me, I conjure you, tell me what I ought to understand by 
 the appearances of this morning. Answer honestly the 
 questions I shall put to you ; but I know your answers 
 will be literally true. My poor girl is very much dis- 
 tressed ; her father is very reserved and very sad ; he will 
 make no reply to my inquiries, and my child is also silent. 
 Tell me,Irepeat,what is the matter?" — "I came home late 
 iast night, madam. N"o one was up but Miss Little, who, 
 like an affectionate sister, informed me she had something 
 to communicate to me, with which I ought to be ac- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 81 
 
 quaintecl. I listened to her till I became greatly affected 
 with what I heard, and, deeply sensible of her goodness, 
 we were mingling our tears, when, thus thrown off my 
 guard, I regi-et to say that I am ai^prehensive I committed 
 an unpardonable offence. I am mortified, Avhile I confess 
 to you, my dear madam, that I had the boldness to press 
 to my lips the dear hand which seemed extended to rescue 
 me from indiscretion. But, indeed, my dear lady, it was 
 the first time I ever dared to take so great a liberty, 
 and I would give the world I had not then been guilty of 
 so much temerity. At the moment Mr. Little entered, I 
 felt as if I should have sunk under liis indignant glance. 
 Miss Little was greatly discomi)osed, wdiile her father, 
 with a voice rendered tremulous by anger, significantly 
 said, 'So, sir!' and conducted his daughter out of the 
 room. This, my dear lady, is the whole I know of the 
 matter. I fear Miss Little will never formve me for ere- 
 afinr/ her so much distress. I had infinitely rather be dead 
 than alive. I dread the eye of Mr. Little, and. it is my 
 opinion I ought immediately to quit your hospitable 
 mansion." — " Alas! my dear child, I know not what to say. 
 You believe you ought to quit us ! Would to God you had 
 never thus thought ! This persuasion is the source of all 
 our unhappiness. How often have I told you that no 
 enemy could ever injure you if your own conduct was 
 uniformly correct. You have deeply injured a heart that 
 loves you. I promised myself that you would become 
 a large addition to our domestic felicity. But you are 
 apprehensive you have offended beyond forgiveness ! 
 Alas ! m,y daughter is more distressed for you than for her- 
 self ; you know not how much she has suffered on your 
 account ; you know not how much we all suffer ! Why, 
 
g.) LIFE OF BEV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 my dear child, will you thus afflict your best friends?" — "I 
 am, my dear madam, grieved to have been the source of so 
 much distress to persons so dear to me ; but I shall shortly 
 be out of the way of offending any one ?" — "What do you 
 mean?" — "To quit this house, to quit this country." The 
 dear lady threw lier maternal arms around me, and with 
 flowing tears interrogated: "Is it thus you will avoid 
 offending us ? Ah, my dear child, how little do you know 
 of us, or of yourself ! For God's sake, let me persuade you 
 not to take so rash a step ! Where would you go, and 
 what would you do ? Would you leave a home, an envied 
 home, and thus, while you afflicted your dearest friends, 
 gratify your malignant foes ? " — " But, my dear madam, it is 
 impossible I can continue under this roof. Mr. Little will 
 not restore me his confidence ; my felicity in this family is 
 fled, forever fled." — "You are mistaken; your happiness 
 rests entirely with yourself; be but uniformly discreet; 
 be but the companion we expected when we adopted you, 
 and all will yet be well." — "But, madam, the eye and ear 
 of Mr. Little will now be open against me. Suspicion 
 will be on the alert, and he will accept the tales of my 
 enemies as testimonies of sacred writ." — "Believe it not; 
 think no more of this untoward business; you have but 
 one enemy who can essentially injure you, and that enemy 
 is yourself. I will be responsible for my family ; you shall 
 not be molested in this house. Only convince us that you 
 love us ; do but prove that you are more attached to us 
 than to any other individuals, and we are satisfied. Do 
 but reflect how delightfully we might pass our time to- 
 gether. The business of the day closed, and we assembled 
 in the parlor, you with your book, we your admiring 
 audience, until we are summoned to supper. Then, after 
 
 : 
 
LIFE OF liEV. JOHX MURRAY gg 
 
 you have closed our serene day by an appropriate and 
 affecting address to the God who created, and Avho has 
 hitherto preserved us, we retire to an early pillow, soothed 
 and gratified, our sleep cannot but be refreshing. Whv, 
 what a paradise would our abode become ! But, my child, 
 when you pass every evening abroad, you know not what 
 a melancholy group you render us. We are dumb; our 
 countenances are sad ; our silence is sometimes broken by 
 Mr. Little, who questions in anger, ' ^Yhere is our young 
 gentleman to-night ? Any society but ours ! ' Then follows 
 a heavy sigh : ' Well, let us go to bed ; it will be late 
 before he returns ; but this will never do.' We dare not 
 open our lips ; but my girls mingle their tears with mine." 
 Greatly moved by these observations, I sincerely repented 
 of my past conduct ; and I determined I would in all things 
 •conform myself to the wishes of my parental friends. I 
 beheld the family picture presented before me by the dear 
 lady. I beheld it with rapture, and I decisively said, 
 *' Yes, indeed, my future evenings shall all be devoted to a 
 family so cliarming, and thus Avill my days be passed in 
 peace." I promised the dear lady, solemnly promised, that I 
 would be all slie wished, and I communicated to her bosom 
 inexpressible delight. I left her in tears, but they were 
 tears of rapture. I retired to my chamber ; I threw myself 
 upon my knees ; I supplicated pardon of my heavenly Father, 
 and, with a devout heart, I implored his supporting aid. 
 A petition to my Creator always possessed the potent 
 power of refresliing my soul. I was greatly refreshed, and 
 I looked forward with renewed complacency. In a few 
 hours I was summoned to dinner; at the door of the din- 
 ing-room I was met by Mr. Little ; no cloud rested upon 
 his countenance. I entered the dining-room, where were 
 
34 LIFE OF JIEV. JOliy MUURAY. 
 
 seated my cliarining, my faithful friends, the mother and 
 her daugliters. Their countenances were animated, but 
 their eyes bore testimony to their previous agitation. Our 
 interview and hour of dining were highly gratifying. It 
 is true, many words were not uttered, but there is in tlie 
 expressive eye and other intelligent features of a fine coun- 
 tenance a fascination which dwelleth not in words. Soon 
 after dinner, my little friend, the youngest daughter of my 
 patron, visited me in my chamber, and bestowed upon me 
 many caresses. 
 
 Halcyon days and months now revolved. I fondly fancied 
 I had surmounted every difficulty, and I anticipated a suc- 
 cession of delightful enjoyments ; yet again I experienced 
 the satiety consequent upon one unvaried routine. He 
 who had appointed me for a life of wandering gave me a 
 disposition which was repugnant to the constant recurrence 
 of the same scene. I ventured to pass one evening abroad ; 
 another and another succeeded. I was severely reflected 
 upon, and I felt it keenly. Conscious of meriting reproach, 
 I was the more deeply wounded. I had been recently con- 
 versant with a young preacher from England. My imagina- 
 tion was fired ; the world could not have longer detained 
 me. I condemned myself for wasting so much time. My 
 heart, my soul, was in England, in London. Let the world 
 bestow its censures, London was the place ; it contained 
 everything delightful. I was on tiptoe to be gone. If I 
 was not approved by tlie family, so mucli the better ; there 
 would be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal 
 friend once more sought and obtained a private interview; 
 this I wished to avoid. She saw my reluctance, and was. 
 convinced she should not succeed. She reproached me ; 
 this, though painful, I could bear better than her tendei: 
 
 I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. g5 
 
 ness. "Then you will leave us?" said the dear lady. — "I 
 am determined." — "You will repent it, sir; you will 
 return with sorrow and with shame; when, possibly, you 
 may not find these hospitable doors open to receive you." — 
 " Xever, never ; I will die first." She paused ; she raised 
 her hands to heaven ; she looked — merciful God ! I see her 
 now before me. The impression of her varying countenance 
 was unutterable; tears coursed each other down her pallid 
 cheeks. Pausing for a few moments, she said, "Poor, 
 unhappy youth, you know not what you are about, where 
 you are going, and wdiat you are doomed to suffer. Hei-e, 
 then, end all my pleasing prospects. Now, indeed, I have 
 lost my sons. Poor Anna ! she has now, in truth, no brother. 
 Go, unhappy youth, go. The sooner you depart, the better. 
 I do not wish to see you again." She left me, nor will I 
 attempt a description of my sensations. I retired to my 
 chamber, — my chamber now no more. I wept, I audibly 
 sobbed. In imagination I beheld the beloved friend by 
 whom it Avas once occupied. He seemed to uj:>braid me for 
 my conduct. How torturing were the pangs I suffered ! 
 Upon the evening of this sad day, my cherub friend entered 
 the chamber, and for the last time during my abode therein. 
 Pretty soul, she threw her arms around my neck ; my face 
 was wet with her tears. She told me that her sister was 
 very, very sad ! " On what occasion, my love?" — "Why, 
 papa is very, very angry with you ; and she says you are 
 going away to-morrow, she knows not wdiere, and that she 
 shall never see you again; and she walks about her cham- 
 ber, and wrings her hands. Oh, dear, oh, dear ! I never 
 saw her so much distressed before ! " This was a truly 
 affecting night ; but it was the last I j^assed under that 
 roof. I was not summoned to breakfast. A servant came 
 
86 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 to ask if I would breakfast in my chamber. There coukl be 
 no doubt of my negative. I saw b}'- the countenance of 
 this domestic that I was fallen. About twelve o'clock I 
 received a message from Mr. Little ; he was alone ; I must 
 attend him My sufferings were great. To meet his eye 
 was abundantly worse than death. I endeavored to avoid 
 it. Some time elapsed before he spoke. He repeatedl^^ 
 attempted to speak, but mingling grief and rage arrested 
 his utterance. At last he said, " Well, sir, you are going 
 to commence your travels?" This, with the manner in 
 which it was spoken, relieved me. It was at that moment 
 my choice to cherish resentment rather than regret. " I 
 am going to England, sir." — " You are? Well, and what 
 are 3-ou going to do there? But this is no business of 
 mine ; yet I suppose it must be m}^ business to know how 
 you are to get there. Have you any mone}^ sir?" — '' No, 
 sir." — " Hold your hat, sir." I did so, and he threw into 
 it as much gold as he pleased, and, as I then believed, as 
 much as would support me, if I should reach the extreme 
 age allotted to man. '' Have 3^ou enough, sir?" — "Yes, 
 sir, quite enough, and God forever bless you ! " — '' Do 3'ou 
 hear, sir? Leave behind 3-ou my son's fowling-piece ; and 
 here ends my air-built castle." And with a flushed counte- 
 nance and a tearful eye he left me, nor did I ever more 
 cross the threshold of his door. I turned my back upon 
 this once delightful home, with mingling emotions of sor- 
 row, mortification, regret, and anger ; all combining to pro- 
 duce unutterable anguish. My frame trembled as I turned 
 from the door ; a chillness pervaded my heart ; sickness 
 seized my stomach, and I had just sufficient presence of 
 mind to turn the contents of my hat into my pocket-hand 
 kerchief, when I sunk down upon the steps of the first dooi 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 87 
 
 iu my way. I was seen and noticed by the people of the 
 house, who conve3'ed me into their dwelling, and when they 
 had recovered me, questioned me respecting the cause of 
 m}' indisposition. I related, with my usual frankness, 
 every particular, and in a short time the story circulated, 
 and with all the yariations commonly attached to interest- 
 ing articles of intelligence. I was soon sufficiently re- 
 stored to reach the residence of my mother, where a new 
 scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor sufferer was be3'ond 
 measure astonished at the step I had so rashl}^ taken, and 
 her distress was unutterable. She had promised herself a 
 long series of enjo3'ments, from the happy arrangements 
 made for me ; and I suspect she contemplated, at no very 
 distant period, a union between Miss Little and mj'self ; 
 and her consequent agonj', when she learned that I had not 
 onh' abandoned my home and those flattering prospects, 
 but that, in consequence of my fixed determination to 
 repair to England, she was to lose me, perhaps forever, the 
 torture of her mind was, as I said, be3'ond the reach of 
 language. But neither her tears nor entreaties, strongly 
 enforced b}^ those of my brothers and sisters, could for a 
 single moment shake my resolution. Whatever barriers 
 might oppose my wandering steps, to England I must 
 depart. I saw, or seemed to see, the sacred shade of my 
 father, first reproaching me, and then soothing me to a 
 compliance with the wishes of his mourning family ; and, 
 by the anguish of my feelings, my soul was harrowed up ; 
 yet still, obdurate as I was, I continued inflexible. I could 
 not endure to see, or be seen, in the vicinit}^ of the abode 
 which I had quitted ; and I made immediate preparations 
 for my departure. I tendered to m}^ disconsolate mother 
 the money I had received from Mr. Little, not a penny of 
 
^g LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 which she would accept. " No, my beloved child, if you 
 must launch out upon the wide ocean, into a world of 
 which you know but little, you will find this sum, large as 
 it is, far short of your exigencies. Through your filial 
 exertions I am established in a dwelling far beyond my 
 most sanguine exj^ectations, or even wishes ; and from 
 your well-timed efforts I derive many other advantages ; 
 and if my God is about to deprive me of my son, I doubt 
 not his goodness and mercy, which have hitherto followed 
 me, will still be manifest, both in my provision and preser- 
 vation, and in that of my helpless children." My heart 
 seemed ready to burst ; conscience whispered I was acting- 
 wrong, very wrong; yet even this conviction could not 
 induce a relinquishment of my plan ; an irresistible impulse 
 seemed hurrying me on. Many instances, striking instances, 
 in my long and wearisome life combine to prove that the 
 way of man is not in himself. I, at least, have experi- 
 enced the truth of this sacred testimony. As the time of 
 my departure drew near, my feelings were still more keen. 
 My mother, my brothers, my sisters, my friends, renewed 
 their tears and entreaties. I could not stem a torrent so 
 mighty, and I determined I would abide with them. But 
 it was the determhiation of the moment, extorted by the 
 mournful supi^lications of all who were dear to me ; and 
 wlien they ceased to urge, I resumed my former resolution : 
 my mother, from early life devoutly religious, mildly 
 resigned herself to an event which she considered inevita- 
 ble. " I see," said she, " supplications are ineffectual. 
 Now I am indeed a widow ! " Starting at the desolate term 
 (widow), so mournfully uttered, I hastened to my chamber, 
 and, prostrating myself before the throne of Almighty God, 
 I seemed as if I were struggling with the agonies of dis- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 89 
 
 solving nature. I would infinitel}^ have preferred death, to 
 a separation so exquisitely torturing. I besought the God 
 of my father to have compassion upon me, never to leave 
 nor forsake me ; and while thus humbly and faithfully 
 soliciting the Father of my spirit, renewed affiance grew in 
 my bosom, and a voice seemed to say, " Go, and lo I am 
 with yo'.i always." Calmly reposing upon this assurance, 
 I retired to rest. I quitted my pillow on the succeeding 
 morning w^onderfully refreshed. 
 
 It was on that morning that I met, for the last time, in 
 the place of m}^ dear, confiding father, his disconsolate 
 family. It was, indeed, a time of prayer. My heart 
 addressed the Father of mercies. I confessed, with great 
 sincerity, my manifold errors ; and I petitioned for a con- 
 tinuance of unmerited kindness. I beseeched God to look 
 with pity on a poor, destitute, helpless being, commencing a 
 journey through a world with which he was unacquainted. 
 1 entreated our God, in behalf of my sufi'ering mother and 
 her helpless orphans, that he would constantly abide with 
 them ; and that he would vouchsafe an answer of peace to 
 the many prayers offered up, in their behalf, by the hus- 
 band and parent now in glory. M}^ mother was dumb. 
 She saw the hand of God in this business, and she believed, 
 that, as a sparrow falleth not to the ground without our 
 heavenly Father, I could not thus leave m}' pleasant home 
 and wander I knew not whither, except the Lord directed. 
 And, embracing me, when on the eve of my departure, she 
 affectingly said, " Go, my first-born, m}^ ever-beloved son ; 
 go, and may the God of your father be with 3'ou. Go, my 
 darling son, on whom, while commg up from this wilder- 
 ness, I fondly meant to lean. But God will not allow me to 
 lean on iiwy but himself. Go thou, ever dear to m\^ heart, 
 
90 LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and may our God be still near you, to preserve you from 
 the evil which is in the world. Tlie prayers of your 
 afflicted mother shall be continually offered up in your 
 behalf ; and O my son, although we part, never perhaps to 
 meet again in this world, yet let us meet every day before 
 that throne, whence we may expect grace to help in every 
 time of need ; let us be present in spirit, thus waiting upon 
 the Lord." She then threw her fond, maternal arms around 
 me, once more pressing me to that dear, that faithful 
 bosom whence I drew my early nourishment. With tears 
 of fond affection she bedewed my face, and again dropj>ing 
 upon her knees, she once more lifted her streaming eyes to 
 heaven in my behalf, when, starting up, she hastened to tlie 
 retirement of her chamber, and instantly closed the door. 
 I stood like a statue ; I could not move; I was almost pet- 
 rified by sorrow. But from this state of stupefaction I was 
 roused by the burst of sorrow and loud lamentations of my 
 sisters. I turned to the dear girls. I wept with them, and 
 endeavored to give them that consolation which I did not 
 myself possess. But, hastening from this scene of sorrow, 
 there was one pang which I calculated to escape. The 
 youngest child, a beautiful little boy, Avho bore the name 
 of my father, — sweet cherub ! — I dreaded seeing him, and 
 determined to spare myself this torture ; but, as I slowly 
 and pensively passed from the house, believing that what 
 was worse than the bitterness of death had passed, this 
 lovely little fellow crossed my path. Sweet innocent! thou 
 wert playful as the frisking lamb of the pasture, totally 
 ignorant of the agonies which wrung the heart of tliy 
 brother. He ran to me, clung around my knees, and, look- 
 ing wishfully in my face, affectingly questioned, "Where 
 are you going? " I could not reply; I attempted to move 
 
LIFE OF nEV. JOffX MURRAY 91 
 
 on. He took liold of my garment. " Let me go witli yon, 
 brother ? " He uttered these questions in a voice so plain- 
 tive tliat it pierced my very soul. Surely, had it been 
 possible, I should even then have relinquished my purpose. 
 It was with difficulty that I extricated myself from this 
 supplicating infant. I would have hastened forward, but 
 mv trembling limbs refused their office. I caught him in 
 my arms ; I pressed him to my aching bosom, and but for a 
 burst of tears, which came seasonably to my relief, the 
 struggles of my heart must have choked me. I left him, — 
 yes, I left tliis youngest of my father's children, this dear 
 object of my soul's affection, this infant charge, committed 
 to my care by an expiring father. I left him in the act of 
 innocent supplication. I left him when I should, with a 
 thousand times less of suffering, have quitted the clay- 
 built tabernacle of my spirit ; nor had I aught in prospect 
 to compensate the sorrows to which I voluntarily submit- 
 ted ! Surely, there is a Hand unseen, which governs the 
 human being and all his actions. I repeat, truly the v:ay of 
 man is not in himself. Few sufferings could surpass those 
 which, ujion this occasion, I endured. My bitterest enemy 
 could not have censured me with more severity than I cen- 
 sured myself. Yet I passed on. Xo friend could urge my 
 return with more energy than did the emotions of my own 
 affticted heart. Yet I passed on. True, I passed on slowly : 
 a frame, enfeebled by mental agonies, is not moved without 
 difficulty. I had sent my trunk on in the wagon to the city 
 of Cork, where I purposed to take passage for England ; 
 and with ray staff in tuv hand I passed on, my eyes fixed 
 on the ground, not wishing to encounter any human eye. 
 It was with difficulty I attained the summit of a steep 
 acclivity, where, spent and weary, I sat me down. From 
 
92 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 t'ns lofty eminence in full perspective outspread before me, 
 was the place from which I had departed. Mj^ eye eagerly 
 ran over the whole bcene. Upon a gentle ascent, directly 
 opposite, embosomed in a thick grove of ash, sycamore, 
 and fruit-trees, appeared the lovely dwelling of my mother. 
 Behind this eminence, still ascending, was outstretched that 
 garden, in which, with great delight, I had so often labored ; 
 where I had planted herbs, fruits, and flowers, in great 
 variety ; and where, as my departure was in the month of 
 June, they all flourished in high perfection. It was onlj^ 
 during the preceding year that I had added to my stock a 
 large number of the best fruit-trees, in the full expectation 
 of reaping the reward of my labors, through many succes- 
 sive seasons. In those tall trees, the cuckoo, the thrush, 
 and the blackbird built their nests ; and at early dawn and 
 at closing eve I have hung enraptured upon their melodi- 
 ous notes. My swimming eye passed from the garden to 
 the house. There sat m}^ weeping, my supplicating mother, 
 at that moment, probabl}^, uniting with her deserted chil- 
 dren in sending up to heaven petitions for my safety. I 
 turned to the right ; there towered the stately mansion I 
 was bid to consider as my own ; there dwelt the matron 
 who hoped I should have been unto her as a son, and who 
 had cherished me as such ; there dwelt the charming young 
 lady, whose virtuous attachment might have constituted the 
 solace of my existence. The tear of sorrow, the sigh of 
 disappointment, no doubt bedewed their cheeks, and swelled 
 their faithful bosoms I And, " Oh ! " I exclaimed, " may 
 the balm of peace, may the consolations of the Holy Spirit 
 be abundantly shed abroad in your hearts ! " 
 
 As thus, from scene to scene, my eager eye with tear- 
 ful haste had wandered, my heart reiterated its unutter- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 93 
 
 able agonies ; and, as I considered my situation as re- 
 sembling that of the father of mankind^ when driven 
 from the pcortdise, to which state of blessedness it was 
 decreed he never was to return, I would gladly, have laid 
 me down and died. I would have given the world, had it 
 been at my disposal, to have reinstated myself in the situa- 
 tion and circumstances I had so inconsiderately relin- 
 quished ; but this was impossible, and this conviction, — 
 how terrible! I wept, I sobbed. Despair seemed taking 
 up its residence in my bosom. I lied from the scene ; again 
 I turned, — one more look. I wrung my hands in agony, and 
 my heart spontaneously exclaimed, "Dear, ever dear parent, 
 once more farewell ! Dear, much-loved sisters, brothers, and 
 thou, sweet innocent, thou smiling, thoughtless, and there- 
 fore happy babe, once more farewell ! And you, dear 
 second parents, and thou sister of the friend of my soul, 
 with the beauteous cherub whose infantile caresses, while 
 pouring into my ear the interesting tale, were as balm to 
 my wounded spirit, farewell, oh, farewell, forever! And 
 you, ye- many kind, religious connections, with whom I 
 have often wept, and pi-ayed, and joyed, and sorrowed, 
 once more I bid you adieu. Adieu, ye flowery walks, where 
 I have spent so many happy hours ; ye thick, embowering 
 shades, reared by these hands, ye health-restoring herbs, 
 ye sweet, delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, receive my 
 last farewell ! Still I lingered, — still I gazed around, and 
 yet again, another look, — Vispc^s^, and lam gone forever ! 
 I turned from the view, and have never since beheld those 
 charming scenes. I wonder much my agitated spirits had 
 not induced a fever ; but God preserved me, and, leading 
 my mind to the consideraticn of scenes beyond the pres- 
 ent state, I was enabled to proceed until I beheld, in 
 
94 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 perspective, the spires of the opulent cit}^ which I was 
 approaching. The opening prospect, with the additional 
 sound of a fine ring of bells from Shannon steeple, — a church 
 standing .on an eminence upon the River Lee, the bells of 
 which are heard at an immense distance, — gave a new tone 
 to my mind. I had man}^ friends in the city of Cork, and 
 I endeavored to derive consolation from their unquestioned 
 Attachment. I had frequently preached in this city, and I 
 had reason to suppose my labors had been acceptable. In 
 the city of Cork, my paternal grandmother, with her daugh- 
 ter, my Aunt Champion and her children, still lived. M^^ 
 society would be sought, and I should again be engaged in 
 preaching. These considerations lessened the weight of 
 affliction by which I had been sorely pressed. I arrived at 
 the mansion of my grandmother some time before sunset, 
 and I was very joyfully received ; but when I had commu- 
 nicated my plan, the countenances both of my grand- 
 mother and my aunt decidedly evinced their displeasure. 
 They censured me with severity, and I keenly felt their 
 rebukes. I assured them I came not to solicit aid ; and, 
 rising from my chair, I bade them formally adieu, quitting 
 their presence and their house. The eldest daughter of my 
 aunt, a very beautiful j^oung lad}', and as good as beautiful, 
 whose heart was formed for pity and for tenderness, fol- 
 lowed me downstairs, and entreated me to continue with 
 them. But her well-designed interference was ineffectual. 
 I had been severely censured, and I could not bear it. I 
 could have borne it better if it had been unmerited. I left 
 my lovely cousin in tears, nor did I again see or hear from 
 any individual of the family, until one evening after I had 
 preached in the Methodist Church, my grandmother ad- 
 vanced, took m}^ hand, and requested I would attend her 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 95 
 
 home. I confess I was delighted with her condescension ; 
 for m}' mind had greatl}^ suffered from the reflection that I 
 had given pain to the dear and respectable mother of my 
 deceased father. I accompanied her home, and we passed 
 a happy evening together. Both m}^ grandmother and my 
 aunt addressed me in strains the most soothing ; they 
 poured into my lacerated mind the oil and wine of consola- 
 tion ; they confessed themselves convinced that the good 
 hand of God was in my removal. " You are," said the 
 pious lady, "you are, my dear child, under the guidance 
 of an Omnipotent Power. God has designed you for him- 
 self; you are a chosen instrument to give light to your 
 fellow-men. You are, I perceive, ordained to turn many 
 from darkness unto light, from the power of Satan unto 
 God, and the Lord will be with yo\x. The God of your 
 father will bless you, and make your way prosperous before 
 you. Look no more, then, to what you have left behind, but 
 look forward in faith, alwaj^s remembering that God's works 
 of providence are his most holy^ ivise^ and powerful ; preserv- 
 ing and governing all his creatures^ and all their actions. 
 Do not, I say, reflect upon yourself. I confess I was wrong 
 in censuring you. God's way is in the great deep. We 
 ought to acquiesce in all the dispensations of our Creator. 
 You, my dear son, are as clay in his hand. God is as the 
 potter, who will do with you as seemeth good in his sight. 
 Who can resist his will ? " Thus did this dear lady speak 
 peace to a mind that had not for a long season received 
 such strong consolation. 
 
 I was urged, while in the city of Cork, to relinquish my 
 purpose of going to England. The Methodists solicited 
 me to repair to Limerick, where a preacher was much 
 wanted ; but nothing could seduce my thoughts from my 
 
9(5 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 native island. I frequently mixed in company where reli- 
 gious disputes ran very high. The doctrines of election and 
 final perseverance were severely reprobated ; but election 
 and final perseverance were fundamentals in my creed, and 
 were received by me as the doctrines of God. Yet I was 
 aware that an attem])t to defend principles so obnoxious 
 would subject me to the censure and ill-treatment of reli- 
 gious enemies, and I had experienced that religious enemies 
 were the most to be dreaded. Yet, as I could not be silent, 
 and as I dared not dissemble, I contented myself with 
 observing that I had been accustomed to hear my respect- 
 able father speak in favor of those doctrines. But, although 
 in my public labors I never asserted aught that could 
 expose me to censure, yet I was more than suspected of 
 Calvinism, and consequent resentments w^ere enforced 
 against me. My residence in the city of Cork was thus 
 rendered unpleasant, and my impatience to embark for 
 England was augmented. I was, however, obliged to con- 
 tinue two weeks longer, during which period I endeavored 
 to live as retired as possible, avoiding controversy, and 
 devoting my time to my grandmother and a few select 
 friends. It was during my protracted residence in this 
 city that the celebrated Mr. George Whitefield arrived 
 there upon a visit. Of Mr. Whitefield I had heard much, 
 and I was delighted with an opportunity of seeing, liearing, 
 and conversing with so great a man. He was the first 
 Calvinistic Methodist I had ever heard, and he became 
 very dear to me. I listened with transport. The principles 
 early inculcated upon my mind were in full force, and for 
 Mr. Whitefield I conceived a very strong passion. He 
 appeared to me something more than human. I blushed 
 at the view of myself as a preacher, after I had attended 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. 97 
 
 upon him ; yet I liad tlie temerity to preach in pulpits 
 wliich lie had so well filled ! And I secretly resolved to enter 
 into connection with him, if I should be so happy as to 
 meet liim, after my arrival in London. I had many de- 
 lightful opportunities in private circles with this gentlemail ; 
 he was a most entertaining companion. But, as Mr. Wes- 
 ley marked him with a jealous eye, he despatched, by way 
 of escort, two of his preachers in whom he particularly con- 
 fided, who diligently followed the great man from place to 
 place. He was, of course, upon every occasion, closely 
 watched ; and his facetious observations and frequent gay- 
 ety were by these spies severely censured, as descriptive 
 of unhecoming levity. In fact, every art was called into 
 action to prevent the affections of the people wandering 
 from one reformer to another. Yet, while the gentlemen 
 in connection with Mr. AYesley were continually upon the 
 alert against Mr. Whitefield, he himself evinced not the 
 smallest inclination for opposition, or even defence. He 
 appeared perfectly content with the enjoyments of the day, 
 rather preferrhig a state of independence to an intimate 
 connection with any sect or party. His choice, at that 
 time, was decidedly the life of an itinerant, and he then 
 evidently shrank from the cares and embarrassments at- 
 tached to the collecting, building, and repairing churches. 
 And never, I believe, did any man in public life enjoy 
 more ; he ^^-as the admiration of the many, and an object 
 of the warmest affection in those social circles in which it 
 was his felicity to mingle. The pleasures of the table were 
 highly zested by Mr. Whitefield, and it was the pride of 
 his friends to procure for him every possible luxury. The 
 pleasure I derived from this gentleman's preaching, from 
 his society, and from the society of his friends, contributed 
 7 
 
98 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 to lessen the weight of melancholy which depressed my 
 spirits on my departure from home. I recollect an evening 
 passed with him at the house of one of Mr. Wesley's 
 preachers, who had w^edded a beautiful j'oung lady of fam- 
 ily and fortune, only daughter of a Mrs. , who pos- 
 sessed a very large estate, kept her chariot, her city and 
 her country house, and entertained much company. Man}^ 
 persons were collected upon this evening. I was charmed 
 with everything I saw, with ever^'thing I heard. I had 
 long admired the master of the house ; his lady I had never 
 before seen. She was the object of general adulation ; her 
 person was uncommonly elegant, and her face dazzlingly 
 beautiful. She had received a useful as well as a fashionable 
 education, and she was mistress of all the polite accom- 
 plishments. She had three lovely children, with minds as 
 well cultivated as their time of life would permit. I threw 
 m}^ e3'es upon the happ}', the highl}^ favored husband, the 
 amiable wife, the fascinating children, the venerable lady, 
 who gave being to this charming wife, mother, friend. I 
 beheld the group with rapture ; for envy, as I have else- 
 where observed, was never an ingredient in my composition, 
 and I hung with a sort of chastened pleasure upon the 
 anecdotes furnished by Mr. TVhitefield. The whole scene 
 was captivatingl}^ entertaining, and highly interesting. I 
 was ready to wish the night might endure forever. Alas ! 
 it was but one night. I never after entered that house. 
 Happy would it have been for me if I had never seen it ! * 
 How mysterious are the ways of Heaven ! This evening, 
 upon which I was so highly gratified, was the remote cause 
 of my suffering, many years afterwards, great and very 
 serious inquietude. I left the house of my friend, Mr. 
 
 * See Chap. VI. for an explanation of this reference. — T. W. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 99 
 
 Trinbath, expecting to have seen him again and again. 
 I left him an object of emy to many ; but I never saw him 
 more, nor did he, poor gentleman, long continue the object 
 of env}' to any one. 
 
 This was the last night I spent in this cit}', — in this 
 countr}'. The vessel in which I had engaged a passage to 
 Bristol was now read}' for sailing. I had only time upon 
 the morning of the ensuing day to bid a hasty adieu to my 
 grandmother and her family, with a few other friends, to 
 receive their blessings, and to depart. I took my place in 
 the vessel at the wharf, some of my friends accompanying 
 me thither. I spoke to them with my eyes, with my 
 hands ; m}^ tongue refused utterance. 
 
 The beauty of the surrounding scenes, in passing from 
 the city to the cove of Cork, cannot perhaps be surpassed. 
 A few miles from the city stands a fortress, then governed 
 by a half-brother of m}- father. I beheld it with a humid 
 eye ; but the vessel had a fair wind and we passed it rap- 
 idly. I retired to the cabin, ^ly too retentive memor}^ 
 retraced the scenes I had witnessed since first I reached 
 Hibernia's hospitable shore ; they were man}', and to me 
 interesting. Reflection became extremely painful, yet it 
 was impossible to avoid it ; and while I was thus retro- 
 specting the vessel cut her way through the harbor ; we 
 had reached the cove, we were on the point of leaving the 
 land. I jumped upon the deck. I threw my eyes over the 
 country I was leaving, which contained all that was dear 
 to me either by the ties of blood or friendship. All were 
 drawn up in order before me. It was another parting 
 scene. Yet I cherished hope ; I might again return. 
 Alas, alas ! this hope was delusive ; it was an everlasting 
 adieu. Dear country of guileless and courteous manners, 
 
100 ^^^^ <5^' ^^^^' JOHN MUHRAY. 
 
 of integrity, and generous hospitality, I bid you adieu. 
 Adieu, ye verdant hills, ye fertile valleys, ye gurgling rills, 
 which everywhere cross the path of the traveller; ye 
 delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, ye sylvan scenes for 
 contemplation made, — adieu, perhaps forever ! Here end 
 the various hopes and fears which have swelled my bosom 
 in a country celebrated for the salubrity of its air, the 
 clearness of its waters, the richness of its j^astures, and 
 the hospitality of its inhabitants ; where no poisonous rep- 
 tile could ever yet procure sustenance. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND, AND FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE 
 INEXPERIENCED TRAVELLER. 
 
 Hail, native isle, for deeds of worth renowned. 
 By statesmen, patriots, poets, heroes crowned; 
 For thee my friends, my weeping friends, I leave; 
 To thy blest arms, thy wandering son receive. 
 
 I NOW began a new era of my melancholy life. Losing 
 sight of land, I again retired to my cabin. Alas! "busy 
 thought was too busy for my peace." Launched upon the 
 wide ocean I was speeding to a country, — my native 
 country, indeed, but a country in which I could boast 
 neither relation nor friend, not even a single acquaintance. 
 I was quitting a country in which I had both relations and 
 friends, with many pleasant acquaintances. Yet this con- 
 sideration did not much depress me ; for, although my 
 heart was pained when I reflected on those I was leaving, 
 yet I was in raptures at the thought of England. I prom- 
 ised myself everything pleasing in England ; yet, in my 
 most visionary moments, I could not name a source from 
 which I could rationally expect establishment or even tem- 
 porary gratification. Several gentlemen were in the cabin, 
 who took kind notice of me ; they asked me no questions, 
 so I was not embarrassed. But they contributed to render 
 my passage agreeable, which, however, was very short ; 
 for the identical passage, which, when I accompanied my 
 
 101 
 
102 ^'^^-^ <5^' ^'^''- ^<5//.V MURRAY. 
 
 father, consumed full nine weeks, was now i:>erformed in 
 three days. But, exempted from those fears, and that 
 nausea which sometimes afflicts fresh-water sailors, I was 
 rather pleased with the rapidity of our j^assage. We 
 dropped anchor in Bristol Channel. I was charmed Avith 
 an opportunity of going ashore at Pill, and once more 
 greeting the good old lady that had, many years before, so 
 tenderly compassionated me when I returned as one from 
 the dead to my offended father. Alas! she was no more. 
 This was a disappointment. But I Avas in England, and 
 everything I saw swelled my throbbing bosom to rapture. 
 I was determined on walking to Bristol; it was only five 
 miles, and through a most enchanting country. Oh, what 
 transport of delight I felt when, with the ensuing morning, 
 I commenced my journey ! The birds sweetly carolled, 
 the flowers enamelled the meadows, the whole scene was 
 paradisiacal. It was England. But Avhere was I going? 
 I knew not. How to be employed ? I knew not. But I 
 knew I was in England. And, after feasting my eyes and 
 ears, 1 seated myself upon a verdant bank, where the hot 
 wells (so much celebrated as the resort of invalid votaries 
 of fashion who come here to kill time, and to protract a 
 debilitated existence by the use of the waters) were in full 
 view. Here I began seriously to reflect upon my situa- 
 tion, and to attend to various questions proposed by a 
 certain invisible^ my internal monitor, who thus introduced 
 the inquiry: "Well, here you are in England; what are 
 you to do ? " — " God only knows." — " Had you not bet- 
 ter apply to him for liis direction and ])rotection ? " — 
 " Certainly ; where has my mind wandered that I liave not 
 thus done before?" The emotions of my heart were at 
 this moment indescribable. When I last gazed upon these 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. ^QS 
 
 scenes my prudent, vigilant father was at my side to guard 
 me from evil; now I had no guide, no counsellor, no pro- 
 tector. "Oh, yes," said my monitor, "you have the 
 Creator, the Father of your father ; he will be your God, 
 and your guide. He will be your protector, your coun- 
 sellor, your preserver. He will provide for you ; and, if 
 you apply to him, he will make your way plain before 
 you." My heart, softened and cheered by these consoling 
 suggestions, instantly began its supplications. There I 
 prayed, and there I remembered Jacob upon the field of 
 Padan-aram. I commended myself to the care of the God 
 of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob ; and I added to 
 these names the name of my own father. Thus, by un- 
 bosoming myself to the Author of my existence, was my 
 S])irit greatly refreshed. It is very true I wept, freely 
 wept ; but my tears were tears of luxury, and I went on 
 my way rejoicing in a hope which gave me, as it were, to 
 tread air. I reached Bristol at early dinner. I entered a 
 tavern, inquiring if I could be furnished with a dinner. 
 They saw I was a stranger, and from Ireland. The master 
 of the inn was from the same country. He soon discovered 
 I was a Methodist, and, being acquainted with those re- 
 ligionists, he invited them to visit me, and I was conse- 
 quently introduced to many of the Methodists in that city. 
 It may be thought strange that, as I had been so much 
 engaged among the Methodists in Ireland, being one of 
 their approved preachers, I did not take the steps neces- 
 sary to introduce me among that class of jDeoj^le in 
 England. But, beside the jealousy which had taken place 
 in the minds of my religious brethren, on account of my 
 attachment to the doctrine of election, which made me 
 resolve to quit Mr. Wesley's connection, and unite myself 
 
104 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 with the adherents of Mr. Whitefield, I wished for liberty 
 to act myself without restraint. But on being introduced 
 I was soon engaged ; attended their meetings and private 
 societies, and was admired and caressed, and consequent!}' 
 tarried longer than I had proposed, deriving from ever}- 
 social interview abundant consolation. Upon the evening 
 previous to m}- departure from Bristol, I was urged to 
 visit a society a few miles from the cit3^ It was a pleas- 
 ant walk. Several of both sexes were assembled ; they 
 w^ere neat in person and correct in manners, and they were 
 all English. I was charmed, and, being in good spirits, 
 I was thought excellent company. I was then a stranger. 
 They were highl}^ pleased. I was requested to pra3\ I 
 did so, and we mingled our tears. I was solicited to con- 
 tinue among this people ; but m}- wishes all pointed to 
 London, and to London I must go. I parted with m}^ new 
 acquaintance with regret, for I was as much pleased with 
 them as the}' appeared to be with me. Being prevailed 
 upon to tarry dinner the next day I did not leave Bristol 
 until the afternoon. I then departed alone, determining to 
 proceed as far as Bath, and take the stage for London upon 
 the ensuing morning. As I passed over one of the most 
 charming roads in England, and alone, I had not onh' 
 time for reflection, but my reflections were pensively pleas- 
 ing. I was advancing towards the metropolis. Hitherto 
 I had experienced the goodness of God, and I indulged 
 the most sanguine hopes. My heart was greatlj' elated. 
 I beheld the surrounding scenes with rapture. I was not 
 wearied by my walk, — it was only sixteen miles from 
 Bristol to Bath. The fields stood thick with corn ; the 
 valleys, burdened with an uncommon load of ha}', seemed 
 to laugh and sing ; and the birds, in their variety, were as 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIIX MURRAY. JQ5 
 
 if hymning the praises of tlicir Creator; wliile tlie setting 
 sun heightened tlie grandeur, and gave the finishing touches 
 to the scene. My feelino's were indeed liio-hlv wrous^ht. 
 I proceeded near the margin of a beautiful river. Two 
 hay-makers were returning from tlieir toil. I addressed 
 them, and in my accustomed manner I expressed my de- 
 light and my gratitude. " ' Tliese,' " said I, in a strain of 
 ra])ture, *' ' tliese are thy gloi'ious works, Parent of good ; 
 Almighty Father, tliine tliis universal frame, thus won- 
 drous fail-, — surpassing wonder far I Tliyself how won- 
 drous then ! ' " Tears gushed in my eyes as I thus 
 expressed tiie transport of my soul. The men were 
 astonished, yet they seemed pleased. I asked tlie name 
 of the river. They replied, "The Avon, sir." — "Tlien," 
 said I, "it flows through the native place of Shakespeare.*' 
 — " Shakesi)eare, who is he?" — "A writer," I replied, 
 wondering at myself for mentioning liis name ; but I 
 thought of Shakespeare, and I have ever been accustomed 
 to think loud. The thought was an addition to my pleas- 
 ures, and from tlie abundance of the heart the mouth 
 speaketh. My companions could not fail of discovering 
 that I came from Ireland, yet they cast no reflections upon 
 me, as is the custom with low people upon these occasions ; 
 they were rather disposed to treat me kindly. "I fancy," 
 said one of them, "you are a Methodist." — "I am," said 
 I; "I do not deny it." 
 
 " Then my Bess will be glad to see thee, I'll warrant 
 me ; wool thee come along with me ? Thee may go farther 
 and fare worse, I can tell thee that." — "Ay, ay," said the 
 other, " thee had best go with my neighbor. I'll warrant 
 thee good cheer." I thanked this kind man, and my heart 
 swelled with o:ratitude to that Beino- in whose hands are 
 
106 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me, on my 
 entrance into this strange city, with loving-kindness and 
 tender mercy. We walked on together mutually delighted ; 
 I, with everything I saw, and my companions with me, for 
 my expressed satisfaction. We soon stopped at the door 
 of a very neat house. This cannot, said my heart, be the 
 dwelling of a haymaker. It was, however, and opening the 
 door, he said, " Here, Bess, I have brought thee home 
 a 3'oung Methodist. I know thee wilt be glad to see him." 
 I was then, by this rough, good-hearted man, presented 
 to his wife : *' Thou must find out his name thyself." I 
 immediately told her my name, when in a friendly manner 
 she requested me to be seated. She was a very different 
 character from her husband. Her manners were even 
 polished. She entered into friendly conversation with me, 
 and we derived much satisfaction therefrom; when her 
 husband, entering, inquired in his rough manner, " What 
 the plague, Bess, hast got no supper for thy guest? " This 
 was a matter to which we had neither of us recurred. The 
 good man, however, was speedily obeyed, and an elegant 
 repast was forthwith placed upon the table, of which I par- 
 took with appetite. We afterwards sang one of the Metho- 
 dist hymns, and we united in solemn prayer. While my heart 
 acknowledged all the fervor of devotion, even my host 
 himself seemed affected and pleased, declaring he esteemed 
 himself fortunate in meeting me. I was introduced to a 
 handsome lodging-room, and a good bed ; but the fulness 
 of my grateful heart would not, for some time, allow me 
 to close my eyes. At length I sunk into the most refresh- 
 ing slumber, and I arose the next morning greatly exliila- 
 rated. I was received by my hospitable host and hostess 
 wiih every mark of satisfaction. We breakfasted together, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 107 
 
 sang a h3'ran, and addressed the throne of grace, when the 
 good man went forth to the labors of the field, requesting 
 that I would not think of leaving them. In the course of 
 the morning the good Ifxdy informed me that they had 
 recently settled in Bath a Mr. Tucker, who had been a 
 preacher in Ireland. My heart leaped at this intelligence. 
 Of all the preachers with whom I had ever associated, this 
 man possessed the greatest share of my affection. His 
 tender, innocent, childlike disposition not only endeared 
 him to me, but to all who were acquainted with his worth. 
 My hostess was charmed to learn that I was known to Mr. 
 Tucker. I solicited her to direct me to his residence, but 
 when she informed me that, bj^the death of his father, he had 
 recently come into possession of thirty thousand pounds 
 sterling, I became apprehensive I should not be recognized. 
 But I had occasion to reproach myself for suspicions, for 
 no sooner was I conducted to his dwelling, than he caught 
 me in his arms, and expressed the highest satisfaction. 
 Upon introducing me to his lady, he said, " My dear, this 
 young man is the eldest son of one of the best men I ever 
 knew. No man ever possessed a larger share of my vener- 
 ating afi^ection. I love this young person as his son, 
 and I love him for himself; and when you, my dear, know 
 him as I do, the goodness of your own heart will compel 
 you to love him as I do." How highl}^ gratif3ang all this 
 to me, at such a time, in such a place, and in the presence 
 of the lady whose guest I was ! But I must be her guest 
 no longer ; this warm-hearted friend of my father and of 
 myself would not allow me to leave his house nor the city 
 for a long season ; indeed, it was greatly against his will 
 that I left Bath when I did. I promised I would call 
 every day upon my worthy host and hostess, which 
 
IQ^ LIFE OF llEV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 ])ro]nise I 25unctually performed. Mr. Tucker insisted 
 upon my giving them a discourse in the church in which 
 lie officiated ; for, although possessed of an independent 
 fortune, he yet continued to preach to the people. On 
 Sunday, then, I preached in the city of Bath, to great 
 acceptation. My host and hostess (the hospitable hay- 
 maker and wife) were present, and felicitated themselves 
 that they had introduced a man so much approved. 
 
 My reverend friend conducted me from place to place, 
 showing me everything curious in that opulent resort of 
 the nobility. It was to this faithful friend that I communi- 
 cated, in confidence, the difficulties imder Avhich I labored 
 respecting my religious principles. I observed to him 
 that I could not, with a good conscience, reprobate doc- 
 trines which, as I firmly believed, originated with God, 
 nor advocate sentiments diametrically o2:>posite to Avhat I 
 considered as truth. On this account I could not cordially 
 unite with Mr. Wesley or his preachers. Mr. Tucker saw 
 the force of my objections ; nay, he felt them, too, for he 
 was at that instant nearly in the same predicament with 
 myself. Yet we could not hit upon an expedient to con- 
 tinue in the connection and preserve our integrity. My 
 anxiety, however, to reach the capital compelled me to 
 press forward ; and my kind friend, convinced I was not 
 to be prevailed upon further to delay my departure, en- 
 gaged a place in the coach for me, discharging all the 
 attendant expenses, and placing besides a handsome 
 gratuity in my pocket. Of my first host and hostess I 
 took a friendly leave. Gratitude has stamped their images 
 upon my bosom. I left them, and my other kind friends, 
 in tears. We commended each other to the kind God, 
 who, in his own way, careth for us. I have since been 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 109 
 
 greatly astonished, indeed, I was at the time surprised, at 
 my thus hastening to quit a place where I was furnished 
 with everything my heart ought to have desired, when the 
 prospect before me was at least uncertain ; but I have 
 been, all my days, a m3^stery to m3'self ; nor is this mystery 
 yet unravelled. 1 retired this night to bed, but did not 
 close my eyes until near the dawn of day ; 3^et my reflec- 
 tions upon m^' pillow were charming. I clearly saw the 
 good hand of God in all my movements. I was enchanted 
 with everything I had seen, and with the prospect of what I 
 had still to see. Oh, how sweet, in early life, are those 
 sensations which are the offspring of vigorous hope ! how 
 great are the joys of expectation ! 
 
 No one ever derived more high-wrought pleasures from 
 hope than myself. I quitted my bed just at the dawn of 
 day, after a refreshing slumber. I had apprised the people 
 at the stage-house, the evening before, that I should walk 
 on and let the stage overtake me. This I did, and a most 
 delightful walk I had. I met the Aurora, the rising sun, 
 the waking songsters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of 
 the mead, the lusty laborer with his scythe, preparing to 
 cut down the bending burden of the flowery meadow. The 
 increasing beauty of the surrounding scenes, the fragrant 
 scent of the new-mowed ha}', all, all were truly delightful ; 
 and thus enchanted, with spirits light as air, I passed on 
 till 1 reached the Devizes, nineteen miles from Bath, where, 
 after I had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, in which I was 
 soon seated, finding a ride, after walking, more abundantly 
 refreshing. We rolled over the finest road in the woiid with 
 such rapidit\^ that we reached London before sunset. 
 How much was my heart elated as I passed over this 
 charming counti-y ! How did it palpitate with pleasure as 1 
 
110 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 advanced toward the metropolis ! Yet still I had no fixed 
 plan, nor knew I what I should do or whither repair. True, 
 I had some letters to deliver, but, in the hurry of mj* 
 spirits, I had forgotten them ; and on being set down at the 
 stage-house in London, I left my trunk, without a single 
 line of intimation to whom it belonged, and wandered about 
 the cit}^, feasting my ej'es with the variety which it pre- 
 sented, " till twilight gray had, in her sober liver}^, all things 
 clad," when I began to turn my thoughts toward a shelter 
 for the night. I entered a tavern, requesting a supper and 
 a lodging, both of which were readily granted. I sat pen- 
 sive ; I was weary ; my spirits sunk. I ate little, and, retir- 
 ing to my chamber, after securing the door, I fell on uy 
 knees, beseeching the Father of mercies to have compassion 
 upon me. I wept, wished myself at home, and my heart 
 seemed to die within me at the consideration that I could 
 not return without fulfilling the predictions of my matron 
 friend. " You will return," said she, " and perhaps find 
 this door shut against 3'ou." — "Never," said I, "never; 
 I will die first." This was the most melancholy night I 
 had passed since I left the dwelling of my mother. I 
 arose in the morning unrefreshed. I inquired where the 
 stage put up ; I had forgotten. I told my host I had left 
 my trunk at the stage-house. He soon found the place, 
 but he despaired of ever obtaining my trunk. I recovered 
 it, however, and a porter took it to my lodgings ; there I 
 believed it safe, although I knew nothing of the people. I 
 recollected where I had lived when with my father in 
 this city ; thither I repaired ; but, although there were re- 
 maining individuals who remembered him, no one recog- 
 nized me. I was, however, kindly noticed for his sake, 
 and soon introduced to man}', by whom I was much ca- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. Ill 
 
 ressed. From this I reaped no benefit. A few of my Meth- 
 odist friends, whom I had known in Ireland, visited me, but, 
 seeing me in company which they did not approve, they 
 stood aloof from me. In the judgment of Mr. Wesley and 
 his adherents, my principles were against me. Thej^ did 
 not believe any man could be pious who believed the doc- 
 trine of predestination. I remember, some time after the 
 death of my father, sitting with Mr. Wesle}^ in the house of 
 my mother, and conversing on this truly interesting sub- 
 ject. I ventured to remark that there were some good 
 men who had given their suffrage in favor of the doctrine 
 of election, and I produced my father as an instance ; when, 
 laying his hand upon my shoulder with great earnestness, 
 he said, " My dear lad, believe me, there never was a man 
 in this world who believed the doctrine of Calvin, but the 
 language of his heart was, ' I may live as I list.' " It 
 was, as I have before observed, generally believed that I 
 inherited the principles of my father. The Methodists in 
 London were afraid of me, and I was afraid of them. We 
 therefore, as if b}^ mutual consent, avoided each other. My 
 wish to attach myself to Mr. Whitefield was still paramount 
 in my bosom ; but Mr. Whitefield was not at home, and it 
 was unfortunate for me that he was not. Every day I was 
 more and more distinguished ; but it was by those whose 
 neglect of me would have been a mercy ; by their nominal 
 kindness I was made to taste of pleasures to which I had 
 before been a stranger, and those pleasures were eagerly 
 zested. I became what is called very good company, and 
 I resolved to see and become acquainted with life ; yet I 
 determined my knowledge of the town and its pleasures, 
 should not affect my standing in the religious world. But I 
 was miserably deceived. Gradually my former habits seemed 
 
112 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 to fade from my recollection. To my new connections I gave 
 and received from them what I then believed pleasure 
 without alloy. Of music and dancing I was very fond, and 
 I delighted in convivial parties. Vauxhall, the playhouses, 
 were charming. I had never known life before. It is true, 
 m}'' secret Mentor sometimes embittered my enjoj^ments. 
 The precepts, the example, of my father, stared me in the 
 face ; the secret sigh of my bosom arose, as I mournfully 
 reflected on what I had lost. But I had not sufficient res- 
 olution to retrace my steps ; indeed, I had little leisure. I 
 was in a perpetual round of company. I was intoxicated 
 with pleasure. I was invited into one society and another, 
 until there was hardly a society in London of which I was 
 not a member. 
 
 How long this life of dissipation would have lasted, had 
 not my resources failed, I know not. I occasionall}^ en- 
 countered one and another of my religious connections, 
 who seriously expostulated with me ; but I generally ex- 
 torted from them a laugh, which ultimately induced them 
 to shun me. I had an interview with Mr. Barnstable, a 
 preacher in Mr. Wesley's connection, and, questioning him 
 respecting man}^ whom I had known, he informed me that 
 Mr. Trinbath, at whose house I had passed so delightful an 
 evening with Mr. Whitefield, in the city of Cork, was no 
 more ! His beautiful wife had quitted her husband, her 
 children, and her mother, and accompanied a private soldier 
 to America ! * Her doating husband, thus cruelly de- 
 ceived, lost first his reason, and afterwards his life. Mr. 
 Barnstable inquired what had become of me so long ; and, 
 after severely admonishmg me, he pronounced upon me an 
 anathema^ and quitted me. It will be supposed I was not 
 
 *SeeChap. VI. — T. W. 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 113 
 
 much pleased with him, and assuredly I was at variance 
 with myself; and, above all, I was grievously afflicted for 
 the misfortunes and death of the once happ}- Trinbath. It 
 has often been a matter of astonishment to me, how, after 
 such a religious education as I had received ; after really^ 
 vitally, entering into the spirit of the life to which I was 
 from infancy habituated ; after feelingly bearing my public 
 testimony against the follies and the dissipation of the 
 man3^, — I should so entirely renounce a life of serious piet}^ 
 and embrace a life of frolic, a life of whim ! It is also 
 wonderful, that, thus changed, I proceeded no further : that 
 I was guilty of no flagrant vices ; that I was drawn into no 
 fatal snares. Man}- were the devices emploj'ed to entangle 
 me, which devices I never deliberately sought to avoid. 
 Doubtless I was upheld by the good hand of God ; for 
 which sustaining power my full soul offers its grateful 
 orisons. 
 
 I pursued this inconsiderate, destructive course upwards 
 of a 3'ear, never permanently reflecting where I was, or 
 how I should terminate ni}" career. My mone}' was nearly 
 exhausted ; but this was beneath my consideration ; and, 
 as I have said, serious reflection was arrested by large cir- 
 cles of friends successively engaging me, either abroad or 
 at home, in town or in the country. Thus did my life 
 exhibit a constant tissue of folly and indiscretion. But 
 the time of my emancipation drew near. A demand, which 
 I had barely sufficient to answer, was made upon me b}^ my 
 tailor. I started, and stood for some time motionless. The 
 money, which I believed would never be expended, was 
 already gone. I saw no method of recruiting my finances, 
 and I stood appalled, when, at this distressing moment, a 
 gay companion broke in upon me. He was on his way to 
 8 
 
114 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 the club. There was to be grand doings. John Wilkes, 
 Esquire, was that night to become a member. I instantl}^ 
 forgot everything of a gloomy nature, and went off as light 
 as a feathered inhabitant of the air. I never was fond of 
 the pleasures of the bottle ; of social pleasures, no one 
 more so ; and that I might enjoy society with an unbroken 
 zest, I have frequently thrown the wine under the table, 
 rejoicing that I thus preserved my reason. 
 
 This period of my life had so much of variet}^ and yet 
 so much of sameness, that a picture of a week would be 
 nearly a complete exhibition of all m}^ deviations. Suffice 
 it to say that I plunged into the vortex of pleasure, greedily 
 grasping at enjoyments which both m}^ habits and my cir- 
 cumstances should have taught me to shun. Upon this 
 subject I do not love to dwell. If possible, I would erase 
 it from my recollection ; and yet I derive abundant satis- 
 faction from the manifestation of divine goodness so strik- 
 ingly exemplified through the whole of my wanderings, in 
 preserving me, by the strong arm of the Almight3^ from 
 numerous evils to which, in the society I frequented, and in 
 the city where I resided, I was hourly exposed. But, as I 
 said, necessity, imperious necessity, compelled me to pause ; 
 and it was, in truth, a blessed necessity. Had I been 
 inclined to forget that my whole stock was expended, the 
 frequent calls made upon me for moneys which I could not 
 pay would have constituted a uniform and impressive 
 memento. My embarrassments were soon rumored abroad ; 
 and although I had many friends who appeared to regard 
 money as little as myself, who, declaring they could not 
 exist without me, insisted upon my being of their parties, 
 yet a consciousness of dependence rendered me wretched, 
 while indirect remarks, thrown out by some individuals, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAl. 115 
 
 served to increase my wretchedness. Easter holj'dajs are, 
 in England, days of comiviality. Parties of pleasure were 
 everywhere forming. M}^ connections were hastening to 
 my favorite retreat, Richmond. Inclination led me to join 
 them ; bat they either were not, or I sus^Dected the}' were 
 not, as usual, warm in their solicitations, and I declined a 
 less importunate invitation. I, however, took a solitary' 
 walk, and I met reflection on the wa3\ I had in the world 
 but one half-penny, and a mendicant, asking alms, crossed 
 my path. I gave him my half-penny and walked on, till, 
 passing out of the city, I advanced into the fields. I began 
 to feel exhausted ; and under the wide-spreading shade of 
 a tree I sat me down. I continued for some time in a 
 state of fixed despair, regardless of life and ever3'thing 
 which it had to bestow. The eye of retrospection ran over 
 past scenes. I remembered my father's house, and the 
 plenty which, particularly at this season, reigned there. 
 This was nearly the anniversary of his death. The mourn- 
 ful scene passed in review before me. His paternal advice, 
 his paternal praj-ers, flashed upon my soul. The eye of my 
 mind dwelt upon the family I had deserted. Oh, could 
 they now behold me ! "Would they not be gratified ? I 
 hoped the}" would. Their pity would have pained me most 
 exquisitely. Still my emotions were not of an ameliorating 
 description. My heart was indurated, and, had I possessed 
 the means, I should have proceeded in the path of destruc- 
 tion. At length I seemed awakened to a full sense of the 
 horrors of my situation ; my heart throbbed with anguish 
 as I spontaneously exclaimed, " Am I the son of such a 
 man, the son of such parents? Am I that pious youth so 
 much, and by so many, admired? Am I the preacher, who 
 at so early a period preached to others, drawing tears from 
 
116 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY, 
 
 the eyes of those who heard me? And is it thus my jour- 
 ne}' to England terminates? Am I now alone and 
 unfriended, without an extricating hand to save me? 
 Whither, ah ! whither shall I go, and what step is now to 
 be taken?" At this moment the voice of consolation 
 vibrated upon my mental ear : ^' Imitate the prodigal of 
 old. Arise, and go unto your Father ; say, I have sinned 
 against heaven and in thy sight ; I am no longer worthy. to 
 be called thy son ; but beseech him, nevertheless, to receive 
 }ou into his service." This counsel, proceeding from a 
 quarter from which I had not for a long season heard, 
 deeply affected me, and bitterl}^ did I weep in the dread of 
 that refusal, which, should I venture to follow the guidance 
 of the monitor within, I was, alas ! but too certain of 
 receiving. A thousand thoughts, like a swarm of insects, 
 buzzed around me, but no thought gave me peace. How 
 exquisite was the torture which at this moment I suffered ! 
 But the approach of evening roused me to a conviction of 
 the necessity of moving ; but whither should I go ? that 
 was the question. '' Suppose," said my invisible monitor, 
 " you go to the tabernacle ? " and, bursting into a flood of 
 tears, I said, "Yes, I will present myself among the mul- 
 titude — yes, I will go; but how shall I meet the eye of 
 any individual who has formerly known me? How dare I 
 stand among the worshippers of that God whom I have so 
 grossly offended ? Yet I will go ; " and with slow and 
 mournful steps I walked forward. The congregation had 
 assembled. I entered, taking my stand under the gallery. 
 [ dared not raise my eyes ; they were bathed in tears. 
 Mr. "VVhitefield, in his usual energetic manner, addressed 
 his audience ; but no sound of consolation reached me. 
 At last, he said, " But there may be, in some corner of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURE AY. 117 
 
 this bouse, a poor, desponding, despairing soul, who, hav- 
 ing sinned, greatly sinned against God and against him- 
 self, may be afraid to lift toward heaven hisguilt}- eye. He 
 ma}', at this moment, be suffering tlie dreadful consequen- 
 ces of his wandering from the sources of true happiness ; 
 and possibly he may apprehend he shall never be permitted 
 to return ! If there be any one of this description present, 
 I have to inform such individual that God is still his loving 
 Father ; that he says, ' Return unto me, my poor, backslid- 
 ing child, and I will heal your backslidings and love j^ou 
 freel3\' What message shall I return my Master from j^ou, 
 my poor, afflicted, wandering, weeping brother? Shall I 
 say, 5'ou are suitably penetrated b}^ his gracious invitation, 
 and that 3'ou would come with weeping and supplication ; 
 that 3'ou would fly with gratitude and prostrate yourself 
 before him, were you not so much injured by your wander- 
 ings ; that you feel you are not able, and that you should 
 blush to ask his assistance ? Is this 3'our message ? Poor, 
 poor soul ! never fear ; }^our gracious Father will shortly 
 send you every needful aid." All this was said to me ; at 
 least, to m}^ wondering spirit it thus appeared ; and I 
 seemed as if expiring amid the mingling emotions of regret, 
 apprehension, and hope. 
 
 I left the tabernacle under these potent impressions ; 
 and, crossing Moorfields, I was overtaken by one of m\' 
 old religious connections, who, regarding me with wonder, 
 said, " Am I so happy as to see 3'ou, one of the man3' who 
 were at the tabernacle this evening?" My repl3' was 
 indicative of the sorrow of m}' heart. He proceeded to 
 make many remarks, until, in the moment of separation, he 
 said, '' Well, my friend, perhaps you will go from hence 
 into compan3' where 3'Ou will forget all that 3'OU have this 
 
118 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 evening heard." My heart was very full ; and from its 
 abundance I said, " No, never will I again mingle in circles 
 calculated to efface impressions which I will cherish to the 
 latest hour of my existence. Let these tears, these fast- 
 falling tears, evince my sincerity." My friend rejoiced in 
 the prospect of my returning to the path from which I had 
 wandered ; but he rejoiced with fear and trembling. He 
 knew m}^ connections were numerous, and that my vivacity 
 rendered me the life of those convivial circles where I had 
 so long figured. But the grace of God upheld me, and 
 never, from that moment, did I unite with those associates, 
 from whom I was at first separated by necessity. 
 
 I was now an insulated being. I carefully avoided my 
 former companions, and m}^ religious connections avoided 
 me ; thus I had now abundant leisure for reflection. Some 
 time elapsed before the change which had taken place 
 reached the extremity of those circles in which I had 
 moved. Many who heard lent no credence to a report 
 which they believed without foundation. The greater num- 
 ber of those laughter-loving beings who had attached them- 
 selves to me, never having imbibed an}^ religious senti- 
 ments, had not learned the habits of my former life. Many 
 individuals called upon me as usual, and found me a differ- 
 ent man from him whom they had been accustomed to see. 
 A few, suspecting the cause, sought to relieve my mind by 
 warm and liberal assurances of never-failing friendship ; 
 and they generously tendered the unlimited use of their 
 purses ! I made my acknowledgments ; but assured them, 
 the whole world, as a bribe, would be insuflScient to lead me 
 again into paths of folly. I was not, I said, unhappy 
 because I no longer possessed ability to run the career of 
 error ; certainly not. M}^ infelicity originated from the con- 
 
 I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 119 
 
 sideration that I had ever receded from the paths of peace. 
 Some resented m}^ remarks as a tacit insult upon them- 
 selves ; others ridiculed me, and pronounced me under the 
 influence of a strong delirium ; and two or three, who still 
 loved me too well to separate themselves from me, were, 
 for a time, induced to reflect seriously upon their own situa- 
 tion ; but these, also, shortly disappeared ; and of the 
 numerous triflers, with whom I had so many months flut- 
 tered, not a single loiterer remained ; and most devoutly 
 did I render thanks to Almighty God for extricating me 
 from such associates. I boarded in the house of a very 
 livel}', vivacious man ; indeed, his whole family might have 
 been denominated sons and daughters of mirth. This fact 
 had been their principal recommendation to me ; but it now 
 added to the burden of my mind. I made inquiry after 
 another lodging ; but, on contemplating a removal, diflScul- 
 ties to which I had not before recurred stared me in the 
 face. I was considerably in arrears to my host, and, as I 
 must depart in a difl"erent state of mind from that \\hich 1 
 was in when I became his lodger, and which had impressed 
 him in my favor, I could not expect he would be very 
 kindl}^ disposed toward me. I was indebted to others, and 
 my distresses seemed hourl}^ to accumulate. Both pres- 
 ent and future support were alike beyond my reach, and 
 it appeared to me I had attained the climax of misery. I 
 closed my door ; I prostrated myself before the God who 
 had created me. Again my sad, my sorrowing heart, revis- 
 ited the home I had abandoned. Stripped of its allure- 
 ments, my mad passion for travelling appeared in its 
 native deformity. Agonizing dread overtook me, and my 
 terrified imagination pointed out and anticipated a thousand 
 horrors. Many devices were suggested to my forlorn mind, 
 
120 LIFE OF llEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and death itself was presented as my last resort. But 
 starting from an idea so impious, " Let me," I exclaimed, 
 " at least avoid plunging into irremediable perdition." Thus 
 I spent the daj^, and in the evening I attended the taberna- 
 cle. I considered myself, while there, as the most destitute 
 individual in the whole assembly. I generally occupied a 
 remote corner ; m}^ arms were folded, my eyes cast down, 
 and m}^ tears flowing. Indeed, my eyes were seldom dr}^, 
 and my heart was always full ; for, at this period of my 
 life, I rarely tasted anything like consolation. Coming out 
 of the tabernacle one evening, a serious young man thus 
 accosted me : " Cheer up, thou weeping, sorrowing soul ; 
 be of good cheer, thy God will save thee." I caught his 
 hand. " God bless you, my dear sir, whoever you are ! 
 But you do not know to whom you are speaking." — " Oh, 
 yes, I am speaking to a sinner, like myself." — *' No, no," 
 I returned ; " the wide world does not contain so great a 
 sinner as myself; for, in the face of an education calcu- 
 lated to eradicate every evil propensity, and of precepts 
 and examples drawn from our most holy religion, which 
 ought to have rendered me a uniform servant of the Most 
 High, I have mingled in circles, consisting of the idle, the 
 dissipated, and the profane. I have run the career of folly, 
 and the anguish of my soul is a consequence of my mani- 
 fold offences." The kind-hearted young man strove to pour 
 into my wounds the oil and wine of consolation. We 
 walked together quite through Moorfields. At his request 
 I promised to meet him at the tabernacle the ensuing even- 
 ing, and I was greatly impatient for the appointed time. 
 Passing Moorfields, agreeably to my engagements, I beheld 
 a large congregation assembled to hear one of Mr. Wes- 
 ley's pieachers. 1 tarried until I saw the preacher mount 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 121 
 
 the stage, but what were m}^ emotions, when I recognized 
 him of whom I was so fond in the house of Mr. Little, and 
 who first introduced me as a public speaker. I hastily 
 withdrew from the place, terrified, lest his eye should meet 
 mine ; but my soul was tortured b}' the comparison of what 
 I was, when I first saw him, with my present situation. I 
 was this evening much affected. Indeed, it was impossible 
 for an}^ child of sorrow to attend upon Mr. Whitefield 
 without feelings of the most impressive nature. I looked 
 around for my companion of the past evening, but I saw 
 him not, and I was pained by the disappointment. On 
 my departing from the tabernacle, however, he again took 
 my hand, assuring me he was glad to see me, and repeating 
 a verse of a hj'mn : " We shall not always make our moan," 
 etc., which hymn I had often sung, and of which I was 
 very fond. I melted into tears. This man appeared to me 
 as an angel of God, and most devoutly did I bless the 
 Father of my spirit for sending me such a comforter. I 
 was in haste to unbosom mj'self to him, to make him 
 acquainted with the extent of my errors ; but this was a 
 subject upon which he did not seem in haste to hear me. 
 He, however, urged me to draw consolation from the prom- 
 ises of our God, which he pronounced all yea and amen in 
 the Redeemer. He also expressed a wish to meet me at 
 the table of the Lord upon the following Sunda3^ For 
 this my own heart ardently panted, and I engaged, if pos- 
 sible, to obtain a ticket of admittance. M}^ concern for 
 my very reprehensible aberrations, as they affected my 
 spiritual interest, so completely occupied m}^ mind that I 
 had little leisure for reflection upon m}' pecuniar}' embar- 
 rassments ; yet my circumstances were trul}* deplorable. I 
 was in debt, without the means of making payment, nor 
 
122 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 had I any prospect of future support. I disdained to ask 
 charit}', and the business of which I obtained a superficial 
 knowledge in Ireland was not encouraged in London. The 
 friend whom I first saw at the tabernacle had continued a 
 vigilant observer of my conduct. He had frequently visited 
 me, and my e3'es convinced him I was no longer the ga}^, 
 inconsiderate wanderer, but truly a man of sorrow. Com- 
 passionating my sufferings, he invited me to his pleasant 
 home, and, in a voice of friendship, requested I would pour 
 into his bosom all my griefs. I did so, and his resolution 
 was instantly taken. To my great consolation he engaged 
 to procure me immediately another lodging, to make my 
 present landlord easy, and to procure for me, if I was will- 
 ing, the means of future support ; and this, without render- 
 ing me dependent, except upon my own regular efi'orts, 
 and the Being who had called me into existence. Let the 
 feeling heart judge of the indescribable transports which 
 this conversation originated in my soul. Gratitude swelled 
 in m}^ bosom. I experienced all its sweet enthusiasm ; and 
 hardly could I control my impatience for the execution of 
 a plan in every view so desirable. The lodging was imme- 
 diately obtained. It was at the house of an old lad}^ in 
 Bishopgate's Street, where was appropriated solel}^ to my 
 use a neat and well-furnished apartment. 
 
 The succeeding morning this benevolent gentleman at- 
 tended me to my late lodging, when, inquiring the amount 
 of my debt, I was answered, '' Not a penny." I stood 
 amazed. " No," said my good-natured host. '' not a pennj^ 
 But, pray what is the matter, where have you been, where 
 are 3'ou going? Oh, dear! oh, dear! th<\se abominable 
 Methodists have spoiled as clever a fellow as ever broke 
 bread. I suppose you think we are not good enough for you. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 123 
 
 and so you wish to leave us." I was greatly affected. 
 " Excuse me, sir ; 1 do not believe m3'self a whit better 
 than 5^ou ; but, sir, I am afraid of mj^self." — "Ah! you 
 have no occasion; lam sorry you are going, — upon my 
 soul I am. You ought to stay and convert me." — " Ah ! 
 sir, it is God who must convert both yow and me." We 
 shed tears at parting ; but our tears flowed from a different 
 source. He wept that he should no more be amused with 
 the whim and frolic of a gay young man ; I, that I had ever 
 sojourned in his house. I was, however, suitabl}' im- 
 pressed by his kindness, although our intercourse from this 
 moment entirel}^ ceased. The following week I obtained a 
 situation as one of the aids to an inspector of a broadcloth 
 manufactor3'. I was glad to obtain employment at any 
 rate. Yet it is a fact I was never designed for a man of 
 business. Nor was I full}^ satisfied with m}' pssociates; 
 the}' were not in m}' ^va}', and the}', therefore, made me a 
 subject of ridicule. This to weak minds is perhaps a 
 species of persecution of all others the most diflScult to 
 endure. I certainly suffered much from it ; but, if I could 
 obtain no satisfaction with them, I had the more whenever 
 I left them, which was upon the evening of ever}^ day and 
 the whole of Sunday. I was delighted b3'the consideration 
 that I was living by mj' own exertions, and in a way 
 to discharge debts which were a heavy burden upon my 
 mind. I lived frugalh', retrenching every superfluity, and 
 uniformly den3'ing mj'self all but the absolute necessaries 
 of life ; and I had ver}^ soon the felicit}- of knowing that I 
 had no longer a creditor. This complete exoneration was 
 followed by a newly revived and ecstatic hope of being 
 again admitted to my Father's house, from which I once 
 feared I was eternall}' excluded ; and I deemed myself 
 
124 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 happ3% bej^ond expression happ}^, upon comparing mj'self 
 with tliose among wliom I was compelled to live ; who were 
 posting, without concern, in what I deemed the road to 
 ruin, from which I had by divine favor been mercifully 
 drawn. My bosom swelled with the most delightful sensa- 
 tions, while I frequently exclaimed, " Lord, why me? Why 
 take me, and leave these poor, unfortunate beings to perish 
 in a state of sin and misery ? " But such was the sovereign 
 will and pleasure of my God ; he would have mercy on 
 whom he would have mercy, and whom he would he hard- 
 ened. Sometimes, indeed, my soul was sick with doubt 
 and apprehension. AYhen engaged in the work of self-ex- 
 amination, one evil propensity after another, which I had 
 believed dead, seemed to revive in my bosom. I feared 
 that my faith was all fancy ; and that the hope which I 
 encouraged was the hope of the h3'pocrite, which would be 
 as the giving up of the ghost. Upon these occasions I 
 experienced unutterable anguish, and my daj^s and nights 
 were, with very little intermission, devoted to sorrow. The 
 distress I so evidentl}' suffered endeared me to my relig- 
 ious connections ; every one of whom endeavored to admin- 
 ister consolation, encouraging me to cherish hope, from the 
 consideration of m}' despair ! My life was now more active 
 than it had ever been, and my connections more numerous. 
 I was much occupied by business, yet ni}- hours of devotion 
 were sacred. I rose at four o'clock in summer and winter. 
 My meals consumed but a small portion of time. The 
 moments thus passed by others were by me devoted to 
 private prayer. My evenings were passed at the taberna- 
 €le, and when Mr. Whitefield preached my soul was trans- 
 ported. I returned home exceedingly refreshed, and, 
 prostrating myself at the footstool of my Maker, I acknowl- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 125 
 
 edged with gratitude the tender mercies of my Redeemer, 
 who had graciously separated me from those who were 
 murdering their time and their precious souls ; and m\' 
 thanksffivino^s were reiterated to that God who had merci •• 
 fully rescued me from enormities so prodigious. Thus 
 rolled on the week until Sunday ; to me, indeed, a hoi}' 
 day, and one to which I looked forward with the most de- 
 lightful anticipations. Upon this morning I arose even 
 earlier than usual ; attending either at the tabernacle, or at 
 the chapel in Tottenham-court, at which places the com- 
 munion was alternately given every Sunday morning. 
 Great numbers attended upon these occasions, who were 
 not regular tabernacle worshippers ; obtaining a ticket 
 of admittance they took their seats. It appeared to me 
 like a prelibation of heaven. The elect of God from 
 every denomination assembled round the table of the 
 Lord ; a word of consolation was always given, and an 
 evangelical hymn most delightfully sung. These Sunday 
 mornings were, indeed, golden opportunities ; my doubts 
 were generall}' removed, and I came home in raptures. It 
 was in such a peacefully religious frame of mind as this 
 that I was passing from the tabernacle on a fine summer's 
 morning, deriving high satisfaction -from the consideration 
 that I loved the brethren. I know, said I, internally, that 
 I have passed from death unto life, because I love the breth- 
 ren. It is true I felt a ver\' strong affection for those with 
 whom I had communed in the tabernacle ; but, passing over 
 Moorfields, I saw a crowd of people collected under the 
 shade of a large tree. I inquired of a passenger what 
 occasioned the assembling of such a multitude ; and I was 
 informed one of James Kelly's preachers was disseminating 
 his damnable doctrines to the infatuated people ! Mj' soul 
 
126 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 kindled with indignation ; and, from the abundance of a 
 heart overflowing with religious zeal, I could not forbear 
 exclaiming, " Merciful God ! How is it that thou wilt suffer 
 this demon thus to proceed ? Are not mankind naturally 
 bad enough, but must these wretches be suffered to give 
 publicit}' to tenets so pernicious, so destructive, — thus in 
 the name of God doing the work of the devil?" At this 
 period I should have considered myself highly favored to 
 have been made an instrument, in the hand of God, for tak- 
 ing the life of a man whom I had never heard, nor even 
 seen ; and, in destro3'ing him, I should have nothing 
 doubted that I had rendered essential service both to the 
 Creator and the created. I did not then know how much I 
 was leavened with the leaven of the Pharisees ; and that, 
 notwithstanding m}^ assurance of having passed from death 
 unto life, in consequence of loving the brethren, this boasted 
 love extended to none but those of my own persuasion. I 
 always returned from the tabernacle with my heart filled 
 with religious zeal. The intermission of public worship 
 was always appropriated to private devotion ; in a word, 
 all my devotional habits were restored, and my Sundays 
 were an exact transcript of those which I had passed in the 
 family of my father. The Sunday's upon which I took m}^ 
 seat at the communion table in the chapel were more abun- 
 dantly fatiguing. The chapel was some miles from my 
 lodgings ; but I never absented myself either summer or 
 winter, and I greatly exulted when I was the first who ap- 
 peared within its consecrated walls. The more I suffered 
 in reaching this place, the more I enjoyed w^hen there. 
 And often while passing the streets of London in the midst 
 of rain or snow, my heart has swelled with transport in the 
 thought that I was going to heaven by means of these diffi- 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 127 
 
 culties aud trials ; while the many who were then sleeping 
 were suspended over the pit of destruction, into which the}' 
 must one day fall, to rise again no more forever. And 
 why, oh, why, I used to repeat, am I snatched as a brand 
 from the burning? Why am I, an offender against light, 
 precept, and example, made a blessed heir of heaven, while 
 far the greater part of m}' species are consigned to endless 
 misery? There were a number of 3'oung people of both 
 sexes, who, having assembled from a great distance, could 
 not return home after service in season for breakfast. One 
 of the society kept a house near the chapel, where individ- 
 uals thus circumstanced were accommodated. There we 
 often collected, and our opportunities were delightful. Be- 
 ing remarkable for a humble demeanor, I was on this 
 account much noticed and caressed ; and I rarely quitted 
 the assembly without a heart overflowing with love and 
 gratitude toward God and his dear children. I was not 
 confined to any particular place of worship. I was accus- 
 tomed to present myself, at the stated times, in various 
 congregations. Wherever I heard of a great man, I made 
 a point of attending upon his labors. Among the many 
 places of public worship to which I resorted, there was a 
 Baptist meeting, where I obtained great satisfaction. The 
 minister was a warm, animated preacher, and the people un- 
 commonly serious. To this house many of the tabernacle 
 adherents resorted ; for, at this time, there was no service 
 at that place, except in the morning and evening. In a 
 vestiy attached to the Baptist meeting many of the con- 
 gregation met before the commencement of divine service, 
 and some of them alternatel}^ sang and prayed. By those 
 persons I was received with great kindness. This aflected 
 me exceedingly ; and, perceiving that it did, they loved me 
 
128 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 yet more for the value I evidently set upon their affectiou, 
 till, at length, I became an object of general attention. 
 United plans were laid to draw me out, and I had pressing 
 invitations to their religious societies, and afterwards to 
 their houses. The minister distinguished me ; solicited me 
 to visit him ; and delighted to speak peace to me, both 
 publicl}' and privateU'. I was entreated to pray in the 
 societ}^, which, as a timid and unpatronized stranger, I had 
 so recentl}^ entered ! I complied, and every one seemed 
 affected. I myself was greatly moved, deeply penetrated b}' 
 reflection upon what I had been, and what I then was, and 
 my soul was transported by the consideration that I was 
 readmitted into the society of the people of God. My 
 presence was now anxiously expected in the congregation, 
 and at the house of many individuals. I was marked by 
 those who attended at the tabernacle, and many other 
 places of worship ; and I was so much caressed by serious 
 people of sundry persuasions, that, when I have been 
 asked what denomination I was of, I have replied, an inde- 
 pendent Baptist, Methodist, Churchman. I hardly knew 
 which of those I liked best, or loved most ; and Mr. White- 
 field, upon whom they all occasionally attended, strove, 
 both by precept and example, to convince us that a differ- 
 ence respecting non-essentials was utterly inconsistent 
 with the Christian character. 
 
 Among the many who extended to me the hand of amity 
 was a merchant, who never appeared so happy as when 
 conversing with me. He received me into his house, and 
 emplo3'ed me in his counting-room. Here I fancied my cir- 
 cumstances improved, but I was deceived. This gentle- 
 man was a mere superficial professor of religion, which, 
 when I discovered, I determined to return to my former 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 129 
 
 situation. I had paid all my debts. I was eas\', and oc- 
 casionally happy, and I allowed myself many little indul- 
 gences, which, while a debtor, I should have believed 
 criminal. 
 
 The leaving my new patron gave me, however, some 
 pain ; he had a very high opinion of me, although I could 
 not reciprocate his esteem. He was ambitious of obtaining 
 a name in the church, and for this purpose he contemplated 
 the observance of morning and evening prayer in his family ; 
 but, not being an early riser, he was at a loss to know how 
 to reconcile his devotions with his business. At last he 
 said, " You, my friend, are accustomed to perform the 
 honors of my table. If you prolong your grace at break- 
 fast, it will answer for morning prayer ! " Greatly shocked, 
 and completely disgusted, my determination to quit him 
 was confirmed. I was still very communicative, and, con- 
 sequently, the reason of my departure was generally known ; 
 so that my once warm friend was, as may be supposed, con- 
 verted into a bitter enemy. I was, however, rather com- 
 mended than censured, while the conduct of the man of 
 business excited general contempt. This gratified me. 
 Alas ! the piety of this world is based on pride. I now 
 became, as far as I was known, an object of attention 
 in every place where vital religion, as it was phrased, 
 obtained its votaries. Mr. Romaine, Mr. Jones, and many 
 other clergymen distinguished me. Hints were thrown 
 out respecting my once more coming forward as a public 
 teacher; but against this I was determined. I was aston- 
 ished that I had ever dared to venture upon so responsible 
 an assumption ! As the eternal well-being of the many was 
 supposed to rest with the preacher, an error in judgment 
 would consequently be fatal to his hearers ; and as 1 bad 
 9 
 
130 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAJ. 
 
 now learned that I was not perfect in knowledge, I could not 
 be assured I should not lead the people astray ; in which 
 tremendous event they would, to all eternity, be imprecating 
 curses on my head. Considerations of such magnitude 
 were sufficient to seal my lips ; but I was characterized as 
 a pattern of piet}', and m}' experiences were greedily sought 
 by individuals of various denominations. There was a 
 society, belonging to a Baptist meeting, near Good Man's 
 Fields, which met statedly at each other's houses once ever^^ 
 week ; this was the societ}^, in which I was most admired, 
 and to which, of course, I was the most attached. In this 
 society there were individuals who, like myself, were taber- 
 nacle worshippers, but who attended this meeting when 
 there was no service there. I had surrendered up my whole 
 soul to those religious exercises, which the several societies 
 to which I had attached myself demanded. M}^ plan was 
 to devote m3'self wholly to my God, to the advancement of 
 my spiritual interest, to considerations pertaining to the 
 kingdom of heaven. Wedded life, a family, these made no 
 part of my plan. I was persuaded I should pass my life in 
 celibacy ; -and, had monastic seclusion consisted with Prot- 
 estantism, I should gladly have embraced its retirement, 
 with its duties. In the society collected near Good Man's 
 Fields there was a young gentleman remarkable for the 
 sanctity of his manners ; we were strongly and mutually' 
 attached to each other. Man}^ very many happy hours did 
 we pass together. During the winter, we were constantly' 
 at the tabernacle before da}'. We narrated to each other 
 our experiences ; we prayed, we wept, we joyed, and sor- 
 rowed together ; and, with unfeigned affection, we loved 
 one another. I questioned him respecting his connexions, 
 when he informed me that his parents had died in his in- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 131 
 
 fancy ; that he" had been brought up b}^ his grandfather, 
 who was a ver}- profligate old gentleman, and abhorred the 
 very name of Whitefield ! But, he added, that, through the 
 mercy of God, he was not entirely alone, — he had a sister 
 with him in the famil}^, reared also by his grandparent, 
 who was a good and gracious girl ; that their nights were 
 frequently devoted to prayer ; but that they dared not let 
 their grandfather know that they had ever been seen at the 
 tabernacle, or in any of those societies from which the}" 
 derived their chief happiness. Indeed, he observed, his 
 sister seldom ventured out ; but he had made such repre- 
 sentations of me, that she had desired him to let her know, 
 when I should again meet the Baptist societ}", and she 
 would make a point of being there ; " and, I request j'ou," 
 said he, " my dear sir, to be at the society next Sunda}' 
 evening, and she will most unquestionably be there." I 
 cannot say I had any curiosity respecting this 3'oung lad}- ; 
 but Sunday night came ; I was expected, and the great room 
 was filled previous to my arrival. I entered ; every one rose 
 at my entrance, and I felt dignifiedly pious, seriously happy. 
 My 3'Oung friend approached, and told me, in a whisper, 
 his sister would have been greatl}" disappointed had an}'- 
 thing detained me that evening. On my entrance I had 
 glanced at a young lady, extremel}^ beautiful, who appeared 
 attired by the hand of elegance. It was with diflSculty I 
 could take m}^ eyes from her ! I was confounded. I changed 
 my seat, that I might not behold her, and, when thus ad- 
 dressed by Mr. Neale, I responded by asking where his 
 sister was seated, when he pointed to the fascinating figure, 
 who had so imposingl}^ attracted my attention. " That 
 3'oung lady, sir, is Miss Neale — my sister. She has long 
 wished for an opportunity of seeing you. I am happy that 
 
132 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 she is now gratified." An introductiou was in course. 1 
 had much to sa}^ through the evening, and my friend de- 
 clared I had never spoken better. I addressed the throne 
 of grace. My own heart was softened, and the hearts of my 
 audience were softened also. I returned home ; but the 
 beauteous image of the sister of my friend accompanied me ! 
 I could not for a moment exclude the lovely intruder from 
 my imagination. I was alarmed. I wept, I prayed ; but 
 every effort was fruitless ; the more I strove to forget her, 
 the more she was remembered. I was impatient to behold 
 her again, yet I most devoutly wished we had never met. 
 I was convinced my peace, my happiness, v»'ere forever fled ! 
 This was truly astonishing, — I had recently been so positive 
 that the combined sex did not possess the power to engage 
 my attention for a single moment. Some time elapsed, 
 during which the captivating engrosser of my heart never 
 relinquished, no, not for a single instant, that entire pos- 
 session which she had taken of ni}' imagination ; when, 
 after an evening lecture, while the congregation were 
 quitting the meeting-house, a lady, who kept a boarding- 
 school for young ladies, requested I would pass the next 
 evening at her house, as her young people were to collect 
 their friends, and she wished some one to introduce relig- 
 ious conversation. I had no inclination to accept this in- 
 vitation, and I accordingly^ made my excuses ; but the good 
 lady continued to press me, and added, I expect Miss Neale 
 will be of the part3\ Of this imposing article of intelli- 
 gence I experienced the full force ; but I endeavored to 
 disguise my emotions ; and, the request being once more 
 repeated, I consented, and returned home, notwithstanding 
 all my resolutions, transported with the prospect of once 
 more beholding the dear object of my admiration. That I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 133 
 
 was now become a real lover, there could be no doubt. I 
 was earl}^ at the place appointed, and my enraptured heart 
 danced with joy when I once more beheld the triumphant 
 fair one. I was happy to observe that she regarded me with 
 marked attention, but her predilection was rather for the 
 Christian than the man. I was, however, beyond expres- 
 sion elated, and m}- conversation partook of the elevation 
 of my soul. The evening was nothing ; it was gone ere 1 
 was sensible it had well commenced. Eliza, for that was 
 her fascinating name, arose to* take leave. I was greath' 
 chagrined. I had calculated upon attending her home ; but 
 a confidential friend had been sent to take charge of her. I 
 ventured, however, to express a hope that I should see her 
 at Mrs. Allen's, a friend warmly attached to us both, on 
 the following Wednesday evening. She modesth^ replied, 
 she would endeavor to be there ; and in the interim I 
 sought to learn if she were disengaged ; but I could obtain 
 no satisfactory information. The appointed evening was 
 passed most delightfully, at Mrs. Allen's. I had the felicit}' 
 of attending the 3'oung lad}' home, and the temerity to ask 
 such questions as extorted an acknowledgment that she 
 was not engaged. With trembling eagerness 1 then ven- 
 tured to propose myself as a candidate for her favor. 
 *' Alas ! sir," she replied, " yon have formed too high an 
 opinion of my character. I trust you will meet a person 
 much more deserving of 3'ou than I can pretend to be." I 
 re-urged my suit, with all the fervor which youth and an 
 irrepressible passion could furnish. Her answer is indeli- 
 bly engraven upon the tablets of m}^ memor}^ '' You and 
 I, sir, profess to believe in an overruling Providence ; we 
 have both access to the throne of our heavenly Father, Let 
 us, sir, unbosom ourselves to our God. I shall, I do assure 
 
134 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 you ; so, I am persuaded, will 3'ou ; and if, after we have 
 thus done, we obtain the sanction of the Most High, I trust 
 I shall be resigned." 
 
 We had now reached her habitation, the threshold of 
 which no professed follower of Whitefield was ever allowed 
 to pass. I supplicated for permission to write to her ; and, 
 in the full confidence of Christian amity, she acceded to 
 the prayer of my petition. From this period, no week 
 passed during which we did not exchange letters ; and the 
 pages we filled might ha\*e been submitted to the most 
 rigid inspection. Mrs. Allen was our confidant, and 
 every letter which passed between us was put into the 
 hand of this discreet matron, without a seal. At the house 
 of this lady we had frequent interviews, but never without 
 witnesses, and our time was passed in singing hymns and 
 in devout prayer. I now believed myself the happiest 
 being in creation. I was certain of possessing a most 
 inestimable treasure ; and although the grandfather of my 
 Eliza, upon whom rested her whole dependence, never saw 
 me, and if he had, never would have sanctioned our 
 union, we cherished that hope which so generally proves 
 fallacious. The dear girl requested me to seek and obtain 
 the explicit approbation of her brother, that she might at 
 least insure his countenance ; and upon my application 
 to him, he unhesitatingly replied, '' 1 consider, dear sir, 
 mj^ sister as highly honored by your proposals." — '' But, 
 sir, have we 3'our consent?" — " Undoubtedly, sir, and with 
 my whole heart." This was suflScient, and I was com- 
 pletely happy. But, alas ! " Never did the course of true 
 love run smooth." We were on the verge of a most dis- 
 tressing calamit3^ This brother, in whom we had reposed 
 uuiiuiited confidence, became my inveterate foe, and, writ- 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 135 
 
 ing an anon3'mous letter to his grandfather, he represented 
 me as a fortune-hunter, who was seeknig to obtain the 
 heart of his grand-daughter, for the purpose of making a 
 prey of her property ! This letter produced the desired 
 effect. The old gentleman was extremely irritated, and, 
 sending for Eliza, he put the letter into her hand, and 
 sternly asked her if she had entered into any engagement 
 with a person by the name of Murray ; when, receiving 
 an answer in the affirmative, he gave full credit to all the 
 rest, and, being a man of violent passions, he threatened 
 her with the loss of his favor, if she did not immediately 
 promise to renounce me forever. He was well apprised, 
 if he could obtain her promise, he had nothing further to 
 apprehend. The firm, self-collected girl implored his par- 
 don if she did not yield credence to the slanders contained 
 in the despicable scrawl he had placed in her hand. She 
 besought him to see me, to converse with me ; promising, 
 that if, upon a personal acquaintance, he continued to dis- 
 approve, she would endeavor to bend her mind to an ac- 
 quiescence with his will. Her grandfather was inexorable. 
 He would admit no conditions, and ultimately assured 
 the 3'oung lady, if she did not relinquish every thought of 
 me, she might give up all idea of ever receiving a single 
 penny of his property. He granted her three days for de- 
 liberation, during which period she was to consider herself 
 a prisoner. Of this unexpected event 1 speedily gained 
 intelligence, and my soul was torn by apprehension. To 
 Eliza I could have no access, and even the intercourse by 
 letter was suspended. In this state of agonizing suspense, 
 I remained, until, through the instrumentality of the 
 chambermaid, a letter was brought to Mrs. Allen for me ; 
 which letter, while it gave a most affecting detail of her 
 
136 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 sufferings, contained the fullest assurance of her unbroken 
 faith and steadfastness. She recommended it to me to 
 apply to the same Source from whence she herself had de- 
 rived consolation, — to the Almighty Father of our spirits, 
 who held in his hands all hearts ; and she added that no 
 power short of Omnipotence should ever prevail upon her 
 to give her hand unaccompanied by her heart ; and that 
 in a few hours she should be so circumstanced as to prove 
 the sincerity of my affection, for she was speedily to render 
 her final answer to her grandfather. She hoped for divine 
 support during the arduous trial to which she was called 
 to submit ; and she most earnestly solicited my pra3'ers in 
 her behalf. A second letter was soon handed me, giving 
 an account of the second interview. '' Well, m}^ dear 
 child," said the old gentleman, "what am I to expect? 
 Am I to lose my daughter, the comfort of my declining 
 life? Or will 3'ou have compassion upon my old age, and 
 relinquish this interested, designing man? " — " If, my dear 
 sir, I had any reason for supposing the person of whom 
 you speak, such as you believe him, the relinquishment 
 which you require would not cost an effort ; but, sir, Mr. 
 Murray is an honest man. He has a sincere affection for 
 me. I have given him reason to hope, and, until I am con- 
 vinced he is unworthy of my esteem, I cannot consent to 
 treat him as if he were." Here the passions of the old 
 gentleman began to rise, when the dear girl besought him 
 to be calm, assuring him it was neither her wish nor in- 
 tention to leave him. Nay, more, she would pledge her 
 word never to leave him, while she could have the felicity 
 of attending upon him, if he would not insist upon her 
 violating her faith, tacitly given to me. But this would 
 not do. She must abandon her lover or her fortune. And 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 137 
 
 finding her determined, he arose from his chair, and 
 seizing his will, in which he had bequeathed her one 
 thousand pounds sterling, he furiously flung it into the 
 flames, immediately causing another will to be written, in 
 which he gave to her brother the portion designed for her. 
 And thus did this young incendiary obtain the object for 
 which he had labored, and to which he had most nefariously 
 and darkly groped his way. I had now the felicity of 
 learning that my Eliza had a stronger value for me than 
 for her patrimony ; and she observed to her grandfather 
 that he had furnished her with an opportunity of proving 
 the sincerity of my attachment. " If," said she, " his 
 views are such as you have been taught to believe, he will 
 shortly relinquish me, and thus have I, most opportunely, 
 obtained a criterion." Never did 1 receive a piece of in- 
 telligence productive of so much heartfelt pleasure as the 
 certainty of that potent prepossession which could thus 
 enable her, whom I esteemed the most perfect of human 
 beings, to surrender up, without a sigh, the gifts of fortune. 
 Words cannot delineate how greatly I conceived myself 
 em-iched by this blissful assurance. Still I met the brother 
 of Eliza at the tabernacle, and occasionally at private 
 societies, and still he wore the semblance of amity. 
 Pi'evious to this event, the elder Mr. Neale, who was 
 always my friend, had become the head of a family. Dur- 
 ing a few weeks we continued in that condition, when mj 
 invidious calumniator requested me, by a written message, 
 to give him a meeting at the house of his aunt, a lady who 
 resided next door to his grandfather. 1 obeyed the sum- 
 mons, when, to my great astonishment, he informed me it 
 was his sister's wish I would think of her no more ; that 
 there were many young ladies with whom I might form 
 
138 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 ii connection abundantly more advantageous, and that 
 for herself she was weary of contending with her grand- 
 father. During the whole of this studied harangue, the 
 torture of my soul was scarcely to be endured. After a 
 most distressing pause, I tremblingly interrogated, " Tell 
 me, sir, has Miss Neale really empowered you to act in 
 her behalf ? " — " If 3'ou doubt it, here is a letter, written 
 with her own hand, furnished me upon a presumption that 
 I might not obtain a speedy opportunity of seeing you." 
 And he put the letter into my hand. Mr. Neale knew not 
 that I was in possession of many of his sister's letters. 
 He knew not that she had ever written to me ; if he had, he 
 wo\.ld hardly have exhibited this scrawl as hers. The 
 anoaish of my soul was no more. Yet I essayed to con- 
 ceal my emotions, and contented myself with solemnly 
 declaring that it was only from the lips of Miss Neale I 
 would accept my dismission. " You may," said he, '^ rest 
 assured you will never, with her own consent, again sec 
 that 3'oung lady." Thus spake, thus acted, the man 
 whom, the very next morning, I met at Mr. Whitefield's 
 communion. Leaving Mr. Neale, I returned to my lodg- 
 ings, sat down and related to Eliza the whole business, 
 enclosing the letter I had received as hers. The ensuinor 
 day gave me an assurance, under her own hand, that the 
 whole procedure was unknown to her ; requesting that 1 
 would remain perfectly easy ; that I would keep m}^ mind 
 entirely to myself, making application only to the wonder- 
 ful Counsellor, and resting in full assurance of her fidelity. 
 This was enough, and m}' full soul rejoiced in the consola- 
 tion thus seasonably afforded me. Mr. Neale, supposing 
 his arts had succeeded, broughc forward proposals in favor 
 of a gentleman educated by his grandfather, who had long 
 
 ] 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 139 
 
 loved my Eliza ; but who, fearful of a rejection, had not 
 disclosed his passion. Common fame soon wafted to my 
 ear the report of these new pretensions. The gentleman 
 was, in every respect, my superior, and he was declared 
 a successful rival. I met the object of my soul's affection 
 at Mrs. Allen's. I communicated the lacerating intelli- 
 gence I had received. She smiled, tacitly assured me I 
 had not much to apprehend, and, according to custom, 
 added, " Let us improve our opportunity in the best possible 
 manner ; let us devote it to prayer and to praise." Thus 
 revolved days, weeks, and months ; hoping and fearing, 
 joying and sorrowing, while my gentle, my amiable friend, 
 painfully reciprocated every anxiety. It was supposed by 
 her connexions, that she had relinquished her purpose in 
 my favor, and a succession of advantageous proposals were 
 brought forward, all of which she decisively rejected. 
 Once a week she was permitted to visit, when she never 
 forgot to call upon Mrs. Allen. She also allowed me ta 
 attend her every Sunday morning before day during the 
 winter ; and I considered myself supremely happy in the 
 privilege of presenting myself at her dwelling on those 
 holy days, by four o'clock, waiting her appearance. And 
 often have I been eyed with suspicion by the watch, and, 
 in foct, I was once taken up. Neither storms nor tempests 
 arrested my steps. And sometimes I have tarried, until 
 the dawning da}^ compelled me to retire, when I was 
 obliged to pass on in melancholy solitude to the tabernacle. 
 Yet, between love and devotion, I was a very happy, very 
 disconsolate being. I richly enjo3^ed the pleasures of an- 
 ticipation, which are generally believed to exceed posses- 
 sion ; 3'et my own experience is very far from acknowledg- 
 ing the justice of this hypothesis. I continued in thi& 
 
140 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 state more than a year, snatching enjoyments when I could, 
 and placing confidence in futurit}-. In the course of this 
 year, my insidious, although still professing friend married 
 a lady of some propert}^, — two thousand pounds sterling ; 
 his grandfather adding two thousand more, one of which 
 he had designed as provision for his grand-daughter. And, 
 strange as it may appear, this angel girl uttered not, upon 
 this occasion, a single reproach ! The new alliance 
 strengthened the family interest against me ; the lad}^, with- 
 out knowing me, was my inveterate foe. It was about this 
 time discovered that the attachment of Eliza remained 
 in full force. Her grandfather imagined that we cherished 
 hope of a change in his sentiments-, or that we should 
 ultimately, at least in the event of his death, come into 
 possession of some part of his property ; and, that he 
 might effectually crush every expectation, he so managed 
 as to put his most valuable possessions out of his own 
 power. The period at length arrived which completed 
 the minorit}^ of my tender friend. It was upon the eigh- 
 teenth day of May, and this day the elder Mr. Neale, who, 
 as has been observed, had still continued my fast friend, 
 determined to render a gala, by passing it with me in the 
 countr}^ With the early dawn we commenced our little 
 excursion, when we beheld, at a distance, a young lady 
 with a small parcel in her hand. We approached her, and, 
 to our great astonishment, recognized in this young lady 
 the sister of my friend, the precious object of my most 
 ardent love. Upon that memorable morning she had 
 quitted the house of her grandfather and all she possessed 
 that had been his, leaving upon her writing-desk a letter, 
 wliich lay there, until the famil}^ alarmed at her not making 
 her appearance at the breakfast-table, entered her apart- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 141 
 
 meiit, whence the lovely sufferer had so recentl}^ flown. 
 The letter furnished an explanation. It was addressed to 
 her grandfather, and it informed him that the writer 
 would ever acknowledge unreturnable obligations for the 
 many favors he had conferred upon her ; that, if she could 
 have been indulged with her wish of living with him, she 
 should have been content ; but, as the solicitations to enter 
 into matrimonial engagements, b}' which she was persecuted, 
 were unceasing, she was convinced she should not be 
 allowed to give this testimony of her filial attachment : 
 and, being now of age, she begged leave to deliver up the 
 ke3^s, the sums of money with which she had been en- 
 trusted, and whatever else had pertained to her grand- 
 father ; adding an assurance that she should no more 
 return. Her brother William immediately conducted her 
 to his house, whither I attended them, and where, by her 
 positive orders, we were obliged to leave her. Agreeably 
 to her request, we proceeded on our proposed walk, and we 
 learned on our return that repeated messengers had been 
 despatched b}' her grandfather, soliciting her again to be- 
 come an inmate in his house, and that the lady of 
 her youngest brother had been commissioned for this pur- 
 pose ; but that every entreaty had proved ineffectual. For 
 me, fondly flattering myself that I should immediately 
 exchange my vows with ni}^ amiable, my aflSanced friend, 
 at the altar of our God, I was superlatively happy. But 
 again my high-wrought expectations proved fallacious. 
 This strong-minded woman was a votar}' of propriety, and 
 she was determined it should not appear that she had 
 quitted a parent for the purpose of throwing herself into 
 the arms of a husband. She had bid adieu to the paternal 
 roof, because she could not, while there, be allowed the ex- 
 
142 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ejcise of her own judgment; because measures were 
 t.'iking to compel her to marry a man she could never 
 approve. Her eldest brother, her beloved William, she 
 was confident would patronize and protect her; and her 
 needle was a resource from which she could always derive 
 a competency. 
 
 / 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE AUTHOR BECOMES A HAPPY HUSBAND, A HAPPY FATHER. 
 
 HE EMBRACES " THE TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS ; " AND 
 
 FROM THIS AND OTHER COMBINING CAUSES HE IS IN- 
 VOLVED IN GREAT DIFFICULTIES. DEATH DEPRIVES HIM 
 
 OF HIS WEDDED FRIEND, AND OF HIS INFANT SON, AND 
 HE IS OVERTAKEN BY A SERIES OF CALAMITIES. 
 
 Hail I wedded love I connubial friendship, hail I 
 Based on esteem, if love supplies the gale, 
 Borne on life's stream, we cut our balmy way, 
 On smooth seas wafted to the realms of day. 
 
 After six tedious months from the morning of my 
 Eliza's departure from the mansion of her grandfather 
 had completed their tardy round, yielding to my unre- 
 mitted importunities, she consented to accompany me to 
 the altar. We were attended by William and his lady, 
 with our dear Mrs. Allen. And I received from the hands 
 of our very dear brother an inestimable treasure, which 
 constituted me, in my own estimation, the happiest of 
 human beings. As I had no house prepared, I gratefully 
 accepted the kindness of this beloved brother, who invited 
 us to tarry with him until we could accommodate ourselves. 
 And, if I except one unhapp}' misunderstanding which 
 took place soon after our marriage, no wedded pair were 
 ever blessed with more unbroken felicity. The disagree- 
 ment to which I advert would not have continued so long 
 but for the instigations of our brother William, who in- 
 
144 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 sisted upon my supporting, what he called my dignit}^, 
 which, as he said, could only be maintained by the submis- 
 sion of my wife. The quarrel, like the quarrels of most 
 married people, originated in a mere trifle ; but the ques- 
 tion was who should make the first conciliatory advances. 
 For two days we did not exchange a single word, Wil- 
 liam still imposingly urging me never to surrender m}^ 
 prerogative. At length, unable to endure such a state of 
 wretchedness, I told William I would not live another 
 hour in such a situation. He only ridiculed me for my 
 folly, and bade me take the consequence. I, however, en- 
 tered the chamber of my wife, and, extending my hand, 
 most affectionately said, " My soul's best treasure, let us 
 no longer continue this state of mournful estrangement. 
 For the world I would not thus live another day. Why, 
 my love, our sorrov/s will arise from a thousand sources ; 
 let us not render each other miserable." The dear girl 
 burst into tears, and, throwing her faithful arms around 
 me, sobbed upon my bosom, with difficulty articulating, 
 " O my precious friend ! you have, as you always will 
 have, the superiority. God forever bless m}^ faithful, my 
 condescending husband." From this moment we bade 
 adieu to dissension of every description, successfully 
 cultivating that harmony of disposition and augmenting 
 confidence which cannot fail of insuring domestic felicity. 
 We soon removed to a house of our own ; and there, as I 
 believe, enjoyed as much of happiness as ever fell to the 
 lot of humanit}^ Yet, although thus satisfied with each 
 other, there were sources of inquietude which created us 
 some distress. I had heard much of Mr. Relly ; he was a 
 conscientious and zealous preacher in the city of London. 
 He had, through many revolving years, continued faithful 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 145 
 
 to the ministry committed to him, and he was the theme 
 of every religious sect. He appeared, as he was repre- 
 sented to me, highly erroneous ; and my indignation 
 against him, as has already been seen, was very strong. 
 I had frequently been solicited to hear him, mereW that I 
 might be an ear-witness of what were termed his blas- 
 phemies; but I arrogantly said I would not be a murderer 
 of time. Thus T passed on for a number of 3'ears, hearing 
 all manner of evil said of Mr. Relly, and believing all I 
 heard, while every day augmented the inveterate hatred 
 which I bore the man and his adherents. When a wor- 
 shipping brother or sister belonging to the communion 
 which I considered as honored by the approbation of 
 Deity was, by this deceiver, drawn from the paths of 
 rectitude, the anguish of my spirit was indescribable ; 
 and I was ready to say the secular arm ought to interpose 
 to prevent the perdition of souls. I recollect one instance 
 in particular which pierced me to the soul. A young lady 
 of irreproachable life, remarkable for piety, and highly 
 respected by the tabernacle congregation and church, of 
 which I was a devout member, had been ensnared. To 
 my great astonishment she had been induced to hear, and, 
 having heard, she had embraced the pernicious errors of 
 this detestable babbler. She was become a believer, a 
 firm and unwavering believer of universal redemption. 
 Horrible ! most horrible ! So high an opinion was enter- 
 tained of my talents, having myself been a teacher among 
 the Methodists, and such was my standing in Mr. White- 
 field's church, that I was deemed adequate to reclaiming 
 this wanderer, and I was strongl}^ urged to the pursuit. 
 The poor, deluded young woman was abundantly worthy 
 our most arduous efforts. " He that converteth the sinner 
 10 
 
146 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, 
 and shall hide a multitude of sins." Thus 1 thought, thus 
 I said ; and, swelled with a high idea of my own impor- 
 tance, I went, accompanied by two or three of my Christian 
 brethren, to see, to converse with, and, if need were, to 
 admonish this simple, weak, but, as we heretofore believed, 
 meritorious female. Fully persuaded that I could easil}' 
 convince her of her errors, I entertained no doubt respect- 
 ing the result of my undertaking. The young lady re- 
 ceived us with much kindness and condescension, while, 
 as I glanced my eye upon her fine countenance beaming 
 with intelligence, mingling pity and contempt grew in my 
 bosom. After the first ceremonies we sat for some time 
 silent. At length I drew up a heavy sigh, and uttered a 
 pathetic sentiment relative to the deplorable condition of 
 those who live and die in unbelief. And I concluded a 
 violent declamation, by pronouncing with great earnestness^ 
 " ' He that believeth not shall be damned.' " 
 
 "And pray, sir," said the young lady, with great sweet- 
 ness, " pray, sir, what is the unbeliever damned for not 
 believing ? " 
 
 "What is he damned for not believing? Why^ he h 
 damned for not believing.'' 
 
 " But, my dear sir, I asked what was that which he did 
 not believe for which he was damned ? " 
 
 " Why, for not believing in Jesus Christ, to be sure." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that unbelievers are damned foi 
 not believing there was such a person as Jesus Christ?" 
 
 " No, I do not ; a man may believe there was such » 
 person, and y^t be damned." 
 
 " Wliat, then, sir, must he believe in order to avoid 
 damnation ? " 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MVRRAY. 147 
 
 '' Why, he must believe that Jesus Christ is a complete 
 Saviour." 
 
 '*TVell, suppose he were to believe that Jesus Christ was 
 the complete Saviour of others, would this belief save 
 him?" 
 
 "No, he must believe that Christ Jesus is his complete 
 Saviour. Every iudividual must believe for himself that 
 Jesus Christ is his complete Saviour.'' 
 
 " Why. 5ir, is Jesus Christ the Saviour of any unbe- 
 lievers f 
 
 " No, madam." 
 
 " "Why, then, should any imbeliever believe that Jesus 
 Christ is his Saviour if he be not his Saviour?" 
 
 "I say he is not the Saviour of any one until he be- 
 lieves." 
 
 " Then, if Jesus be not the Saviour of the unbeliever 
 until he believes, the unbeliever is called upon to believe a 
 lie. It appears to me, sir, that Jesus is the complete 
 Saviour of unbelievers ; and that unbelievers are called 
 upon to believe the truth ; and that by believing they are 
 saved, in their own apprehension, saved from all those 
 dreadful fears which are consequent upon a state of con- 
 scious condemnation." 
 
 " No, madam ; you are dreadfully, I trust not fatally, 
 misled. Jesus never was, never will be, the Saviour of 
 am' unbeliever." 
 
 " Do you think Jesus is your Saviour, sir ?" 
 
 " I hope he is." 
 
 " Were you always a believer, sir? " 
 
 " No, madam." 
 
 " Then yow were once an unbeliever ; that is, you once 
 believed that Jesus Christ was not your Saviour. Now, as 
 
148 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 you say, he never was^ nor never will be, the Saviour of 
 any unbeliever; as you were once an unbeliever^ he never 
 can be your Saviour." 
 
 " He never was my Saviour till I believed." 
 '' Did he never die for 3^ou till j^ou believed, sir? " 
 Here I was extremely embarrassed, and most devoutly 
 wished myself out of her habitation. I sighed bitterly, 
 expressed deep commiseration for those souls who had 
 nothing but head-knowledge ; drew out my watch, discov- 
 ered it was late; and, recollecting an engagement, observed 
 it was time to take leave. 
 
 I was extremely mortified. The young lady observed 
 my confusion, but was too generous to pursue her triumph. 
 I arose to depart ; the company arose ; she urged us to 
 tarr}^ ; addressed each of us in the language of kindness. 
 Her countenance seemed to wear a resemblance of the 
 heaven which she contemplated It was stamped by benig- 
 nity ; and, when we bade her adieu, she enriched us by her 
 good wishes. 
 
 I suspected that my religious brethren saw she had the 
 advantage of me ; and I felt that her remarks were indeed 
 unanswerable. My pride was hurt, and I determined to 
 ascertain the exact sentiments of my associates respecting 
 this interview. " Poor soul," said I, '' she is far gone in 
 error." — "True," said they; "but she is, notwithstand- 
 ing, a very sensible woman." A}", ay, thought I, they have 
 assuredly discovered that she had proved too mighty for 
 me. " Yes," said I, " she has a great deal of 7ieac?-knowl- 
 edge ; but yet she ma}'- be a lost, damned soul." — "I hope 
 not," returned one of my friends; "she is a very good 
 young woman." I saw, and it was with extreme chagrin, 
 that the result of this visit had depreciated me in the opin- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 149 
 
 ion of m}" companions. But I could only censure and con- 
 demn, solemnly observing, it was better not to converse 
 with any of those apostates, and it would be judicious never 
 to associate with them upon an}^ occasion. From this 
 period, I m3^self carefully avoided every Universalist, and 
 most cordially did I hate them. My ear was open to the 
 public calumniator, to the secret whisperer, and I yielded 
 credence to every scandalous report, however improbable. 
 My informers were good people. I had no doubt of their 
 veracity ; and I believed it would be difficult to paint Relly 
 and his connections in colors too black. How severely has 
 the law of retaliation been since exercised in the stabs 
 which have been aimed at my own reputation ! Relly was 
 described as a man black with crimes ; an atrocious 
 offender, both in principle and practice. He had, it was 
 said, abused and deserted an amiable wife ; and it was 
 added that he retained in his house an abandoned woman ; 
 and that he not only thus conducted himself, but publicly, 
 and most nefariously, taught his hearers to dare the laws 
 of their country and their God- " Hence," said my inform- 
 ers, " the dissipated and unprincipled of every class flock 
 to his church. His congregation is astonishingly large ; the 
 carriages of the great block up the street in which his 
 meeting-house stands, and he is the idol of the voluptuous 
 of every description." All this and much more was said, 
 industriously propagated, and credited in every religious 
 circle. Denominations at variance with each other most 
 cordially agreed in thus thinking, and thus speaking, of 
 Relly, of his preaching, and of his practice. 1 confess I 
 felt a strong inclination to see and hear this monster, once 
 at least ; but the risk was dreadful ! I could not gather 
 courage to hazard the steadfastness of my faith ; and for 
 
150 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 many years I persevered in my resolution, on no considera- 
 tion to contaminate m}^ ear by the sound of his voice. At 
 length, however, I was prevailed upon to enter his church; 
 but I detested the sight of him ; and my mind, prejudiced 
 by the reports to which I had listened respecting him, was 
 too completely filled with a recollection of his fancied 
 atrocities, to permit a candid attention to his subject, or 
 his mode of investigation. I wondered much at his impu- 
 dence in daring to speak in the name of God ; and I felt 
 assured that he was treasuring up unto himself wrath 
 against the day of wrath. I looked upon this deluded 
 audience with alternate pity and contempt, and I thanked 
 God that I was not one of them. I rejoiced when I escaped 
 from the house, and, as I passed home, I exclaimed, almost 
 audibly, '* Wh}^, O my God, was I not left in this deplora- 
 ble, damnable state, — given up like this poor, unfortunate 
 people, to believe a lie, to the utter perversion of m^^ soul ? " 
 But I was thus furnished with another proof of my election, 
 in consequence of my not being deceived by this detestable 
 deceiver ; and, of course, my consolation was great. 
 
 About this time there was a religious society established 
 in Cannon Street, in an independent meeting-house, for the 
 purpose of elucidating difficult passages of Scripture. This 
 society chose for their president a Mi'. Mason, who, 
 although not a clerical gentleman, was, nevertheless, of 
 high standing in the religious world. Frequent applica- 
 tions were made to him in the character of a physician to 
 the sinking, sorrowing, sin-sick soul. His figure was com- 
 manding, and well calculated to fill the minds of young 
 converts with religious awe. When this company of seri- 
 ous inquirers was assembled, the president addressed the 
 throne of grace in a solemn and appropriate praj-er, and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 151 
 
 the subject for the evening was next proposed. Every 
 member of the society was indulged with the privilege of 
 expressing his sentiments, for the space of five minutes. 
 A glass was upon the table, which ran accurately the given 
 term. The president held in his hand a small ivory ham- 
 mer. When the speaker's time had expired, he had a right 
 to give him notice by a stroke on the table, round which 
 the members were seated. But, if he approved of what 
 was delivered, it was optional with him to extend the limits 
 of his term. When the question had gone round the table 
 the president summed up the evidences, gave his own 
 judgment, and, having proposed the question for the next 
 evening, concluded with prayer. 
 
 Upon this society I was a constant attendant, and I was 
 frequently gratified by the indulgence of the president and 
 the implied approbation of the society. It was on the 
 close of one of those evenings, which were to me very 
 precious opportunities, that the president took me by the 
 hand, and requested me to accompany him into the vestry. 
 
 " Sit down, m}^ good sir. You cannot but have seen that 
 I have long distinguished 5^ou in this societ}^ ; that I have 
 been pleased with your observations ; and I have given 
 indisputable evidence that both my reason and m}^ jiidg- 
 ment approved your remarks." I bowed respectfully, and 
 endeavored to express my gratitude in a manner becoming 
 an occasion so truly flattering. 
 
 " My object," said he, " in seeking to engage you in pri 
 vate, is to request j^ou would take home with you a pam 
 phlet I have written against Relly's ' Union.' I have long 
 wondered that some able servant of our Master has not 
 taken up this subject. But, as m}^ superiors are silent, I 
 have been urged by a sense of duty to make a stand, and 
 
152 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 I have done all in my power to prevent the pernicious ten- 
 dency of this soul-destroying book." 
 
 Although, at this period, I had never seen Relly's 
 " Union," yet my heart rejoiced that Mason, this great and 
 good man, had undertaken to write against it, and, from 
 the abundance of my heart, my mouth overflowed with 
 thankfulness. 
 
 "All that I request of you," said Mr. Mason, "is to 
 take this manuscript home with you, and keep it till our 
 next meeting. Meet me in this vestry a little before the 
 usual time. Read it, I entreat j^ou, carefully, and favor 
 me with your unbiassed sentiments." I was elated by the 
 honor done me, and I evinced much astonishment at the 
 confidence reposed in me. But he was pleased to express 
 a high opinion of my judgment, abilities, and goodness of 
 heart, and he begged leave to avail himself of those quali- 
 ties with which his fancy had invested me. 
 
 I took the manuscript home, perused it carefuU}^, and 
 with much pleasure, until I came to a passage at which I 
 was constrained to pause, 2>(^i'>\fu^^y to pause. Mr. Kelly 
 has said, speaking of the record which God gave of his 
 Son : " This life is in his /Son, and he that believeth not this 
 record maketh God a liar. From whence," inferred Mr. 
 Rell\% " it is plain that God hath given this eternal life 
 in the Son to unbelievers, as fully as to believers, else the 
 unbeliever could not b}^ his unbelief make God a liar. 
 "This," said Mr. Mason, pwinm^ upon the author's name, 
 " is just as clear as that this writer is an Irish Bishop." I 
 was grieved to observe that Mr. Mason could say no more 
 upon a subject so momentous. Nor could I forbear allow- 
 ing more than I wished to allow to the reasoning of Mr. 
 Uelly. Most devoutly did I lament that the advantage in 
 
LIFE OF REr. JOHX MURRAY. 153 
 
 argument did not rest with n\v admired friend, Mason ; and 
 I was especially desirous that this last argument should 
 have been completely confuted. I was positive that God 
 never gave eternal life to any unbeliever ; and yet I was per- 
 plexed to decide how, if God had not given life to unbe- 
 lievers, they could possibly 7nake God a liar, by believing 
 that he had not. My mind was incessantly exercised and 
 greatly embarrassed upon this question. What is it to 
 make any one a liar, but to deny the truth of what he has 
 said? But if God had nowhere said he had given life to 
 unbelievers, how could the unbeliever make God a liar? 
 The stronger this argument seemed in favor of the grace 
 and love of God, the more distressed and unhappy T 
 became ; and most earnestl3^ did I wish that Mr. Mason's 
 pamphlet might contain something that was more rational, 
 more scriptural, than a mere pun; that he might be able 
 to adduce proof positive that the gift of God, which is 
 everlasting life, was never given to any but believers. I was 
 indisputably assured that I myself was a believer ; and 
 right precious did I hold ray exclusive property in the Son 
 of God. 
 
 At the appointed time I met Mr. Mason in the vestry. 
 *' Well, sir, I presume you have read my manuscript?" — 
 " I have, sir, and I have read it repeatedly." — " Well, sir, 
 speak freel}', is there anything in the manuscript which 3^ou 
 dislike?" — " Wh}^ sir, as 3'ou are so good as to indulge 
 me with the liberty of speaking, I will venture to point out 
 one passage which appears to me not sufficiently clear. 
 Pardon me, sir, but surely argument, especially upon religious 
 subjects, is preferable to ridicule, to p>unning upon the name 
 of an author." — '" And where, pray, is the objectionable 
 paragraph to which you advert?" I pointed it out ; l)ut, 
 
154 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 OD looking in his face, I observed his countenance fallen ; 
 it was no longer toward me. Mr. Mason questioned ray 
 judgment, and never afterward honored me by his atten- 
 tion. However, I still believed Mason rights and Relly 
 tvrong; for if Relly was right, the conclusion was unavoid- 
 able, all men must finally he saved. But this was out of 
 the question, utterly impossible. All religious denomina- 
 tions agreed to condemn this heresy, to consider it as a 
 damnable doctrine ; and what every religious denomination 
 united to condemn must be false. 
 
 Thus, although I lost the favor of Mr. Mason, and he 
 published his pamphlet precisely as it stood when submitted 
 to m}' perusal, yet my reverential regard for him was not 
 diminished. I wished, most cordially wished, success to 
 his book, and destruction to the author against whom it was 
 written. 
 
 In this manner some months rolled over my head, when, 
 accompanying my wife on a visit to her aunt, after the 
 usual ceremonies, I repaired, according to custom, to the 
 bookcase, and, turning over many books and pamphlets, I 
 at length opened one that had been robbed of its title- 
 page ; but in running it over I came to the very argument 
 which had excited so much anxiety in my bosom. It was 
 the first moment I had ever seen a line of Mr. Kelly's writ- 
 ing, except in Mr. Mason's pamphlet. I was much aston- 
 ished, and, turning to Mrs. Murray, I informed her I held 
 Mr. Kelly's " Union " in my hand. I asked our uncle if I 
 might put it in my pocket. " Surely," said he ; " and keep 
 it there, if you please ; I never read books of divinity. I 
 know not what the pamphlet is, nor do I wish to know." 
 As I put it into m}^ pocket, my mind became alarmed and 
 perturbed. It was dangerous ; it was tampering vvith 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 155- 
 
 poison ; it was like taking fire into my bosom. I had bet- 
 ter throw it into the flames, or restore it to the bookcase. 
 Such was the conflict in my bosom. However, in the full 
 assurance that the elect were safe, and that although they 
 took any deadly thing it should not hurt them, I decided to 
 read the " Union ; " and, having thus made up my mind, I 
 experienced a degree of impatience until I reached home, 
 when, addressing the dear companion of my 3^outh, I said, 
 " I have, my dear, judged and condemned before I have 
 heard ; but I have now an opportunit}' given me for delib- 
 erate investigation." — " But," returned Mrs. Murray, " are 
 we sufficient of ourselves?" — " No, my love, certainly we 
 are not ; but God, all-gracious, hath said, ' If any lack 
 wisdom, let them ask of God, who giveth liberall}- and 
 upbraideth not.* M3' heart is exercised by fearful appre- 
 hensions. This moment I dread to read, the next I am 
 anxious to hear what the author can say. We will, there- 
 fore, lay this book before our God. There is, my love, a 
 God, who is not far from every one of us. We are directed 
 to make our requests known unto him for all things, by 
 supplication and pra3^er. God hath never 3'et said to any, 
 ' Seek 3'e my face in vain.' We will then pray for his direc- 
 tion and counsel ; and we ma}^ rest in the assurance of 
 obtaining both." Accordingly we entered our closet, and 
 both of us — for we were both equally interested — pros- 
 trated ourselves before God with pi'a3'ers and tears, beseech- 
 ing him, the God of mercy, to look with pity on us. We 
 wex'e on the point of attending to doctrines of which we 
 were not, we could not, be judges, and we earnestl3" suppli- 
 cated him to lead us into all truth. If the volume before 
 us contained truth, we entreated him to show it to us, and 
 to increase our faith. If, on the other hand, it contained 
 
156 LIFE OF REV. JO FIN MURRAY. 
 
 falsehood, we beseeched God to make it manifest, that we 
 might not be deceived. No poor criminal ever prayed for 
 life, when under sentence of death, with greater fervor of 
 devotion, than did my laboring soul upon this occasion 
 supplicate for the light of life to direct my erring steps. 
 
 After thus weeping and thus supplicating, we opened the 
 Bible and began to read this book, looking into the Bible 
 for the passages to which the writer referred. We were 
 astonished and delighted at the beaut}'' of the Scriptures, 
 thus exhibited. It seemed as if every sentence was an apple 
 of gold in a picture of silver ; and still, as we proceeded, 
 the wonder was that so much divine truth should be spoken 
 by so heinous a transgressor ; and this consideration 
 seemed suggested as a reason why I should not continue 
 reading. Can anything good proceed from such a charac- 
 ter? Would not truth have been revealed to men eminent 
 for virtue? How is it possible discoveries so important 
 should never until now have been made, and now 'only b}' 
 this man? Yet I considered, GocVs ways were in the great 
 deep; he would send by whom he would send ; choosing the 
 weak and base things to confound the mighty and the strong^ 
 that no flesh should glory in his presence. And, as my 
 lovel}' wife justly observed, I was not sure all I heard of 
 Mr. Relly was true ; that our Saviour had said to his dis- 
 €iples, " They shall sa}^ all manner of evil o^ you. falsely '/' 
 and the present instance may be a case in point. '' You 
 have no personal acquaintance with Mr. Relly," said she ; 
 " nor do you know that any of those from whom you have 
 received his character are better informed than yourself. 
 I think it doth not hecoyne us to speak or believe evil of any 
 man luithout the strongest possible proofs All this was 
 rational. I felt its full force, and blushed for ra}^ own 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 157 
 
 credulit3\ I proceeded to read. Tlie '' Union " introduced 
 me to many passages of Scripture which had before escaped 
 m}^ observation. A student as I had been of the Scrip- 
 tures from the first dawn of my reason, I could not but 
 wonder at mj^self. I turned to Mr. Mason's book, and I 
 discovered want of candor, and a kind of duplicity which 
 had not before met m}' view, and which perhaps would 
 never have caught my attention had I not read the " Union." 
 I saw the grand object untouched, while Rell}^ had clearl}' 
 pointed out the doctrines of the gospel. Yet there were 
 many passages that I could not understand, and I felt ra}'- 
 self distressing!}' embarrassed. One moment I wished from 
 m}^ soul I had never seen the " Union ; " and the next my 
 heart was enlarged and lifted up by considerations which 
 swelled my bosom to ecstasy. This was the situation 
 of my mind during mau}^ succeeding months, and a large 
 proportion of my time was passed in reading and studying 
 the Scriptures and in prayer. My understanding was 
 pressing on to new attainments, and the prospect bright- 
 ened before me. I was greatl}' attached to m\^ minister, 
 Mr. Hitchins ; he was eminent in his line, and a most pleas- 
 ing preacher. Mrs. Murray was in the habit of taking 
 down his sermons in short hand. We were delighted with 
 the man, and accustomed to consider him a genuine gospel 
 preacher. It happened that IMr. Hitchins took a journe}^ 
 into the country, and was absent on the Sabbath da}'. 
 " Come, my dear," said I, " our minister is out of town ; 
 let us avail ourselves of the opportunity, and hear the 
 writer of the ' Union.' This is a privilege which few who 
 read books can have ; as authors aregenerall}- numbered with 
 the dead before their labors are submitted to the public 
 eye." Her consent was 3'ielded to my solicitations ; but 
 
158 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 we were terrified as we passed along, in the fear of meeting 
 some of our religious brethren. Happil}^, however, we 
 reached the meeting-house without encountering any one 
 to whom we were known. 
 
 Mr. Relly had changed his place of worship, and we 
 were astonished to observe a striking proof of the falsehood 
 of those reports which had reached us. No coaches thronged 
 the street nor surrounded the door of this meeting-iiouse ; 
 there was no vestige of grandeur either within or without. 
 The house had formerly been occupied by Quakers. There 
 were no seats save a few benches ; and the pulpit was 
 framed of a few rough boards, over which no plane had 
 ever passed. The audience corresponded with the house. 
 They did not appear very religious ; tliat is, they were not 
 melancholy ; and I therefore suspected they had not much 
 piety. I attended to everything. The hymn was good, 
 the prayer excellent, and I was astonished to witness in so 
 bad a man so much apparent devotion ; for still, I must 
 confess, the prejudices I had received from my religious 
 friends were prevalent in my mind. Mr. Relly gave out 
 his text : " Either make the tree good and its fruit good, or the 
 tree corrupt and the fruit corrupt ; for every tree is known by 
 its fruit ; a good tree cannot bring forth corrupt fruit, 
 neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." I was 
 immeasurably surprised. What, thought I, has this man 
 to do with a passage so calculated to condemn himself ? 
 But, as he proceeded, every faculty of my soul was power- 
 fully seized and captivated, and I was perfectly amazed, 
 while he explained wlio we were to understand by the 
 good^ and wlio by the had trees. He proved, beyond con- 
 tradiction, that a good tree could not bring forth any corrupt 
 fruity but there was no man who lived and sinned not. All 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 159 
 
 mankind had corrupted themselves ; there were none there- 
 fore good; no^ not one-. 
 
 No mere man, since the fall, has been able to keep the 
 commandments of God ; but daily doth break them, in 
 thought, in ivord, in deed. There was, however one good 
 ^?'ee, Jesus. He, indeed, stands as the apple-tree among 
 the trees of the wood. He is that good tree, which cannot 
 bring forth corrupt fruit. Under his shadow the believer 
 reposeth ; the fruit of this tree is sweet to his taste ; and the 
 matter of his theme constantly is, " Whom have I in heaven 
 but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire beside 
 thee." I was constrained to believe that I had never, until 
 this moment, heard the Redeemer preached ; and, as I said, 
 I attended with my whole soul. I was humbled ; I was 
 confounded ; I saw clearly that I had been all my life ex- 
 pecting good fruit from corrupt trees, grapes on thorns, and 
 Jigs on thistles. I suspected myself; I had lost m}^ stand- 
 ing ; I was unsettled, perturbed, and wretched. A few 
 individuals whom I had known at Mr. Whitefield's taber- 
 nacle were among Mr. Relly's audience, and I heard them 
 say, as they passed out of the aisle of the church, " I wonder 
 how the Pharisees would like our preacher ? " I wished to 
 hear Mrs. Murray speak upon the subject ; but we passed 
 on, wrapped in contemplation. At length, I broke silence : 
 "Well, my dear, what are your sentiments?" — " Na}^, 
 my dear, what is your opinion ? " — " I never heard truth, — 
 unadulterated truth before. So sure as there is a God in 
 heaven, if the Scriptures be the word of God, the testimony 
 this day delivered is the truth of God. Ii is the first con- 
 sistent sermon I have ever heard." I reached home full of 
 this sermon ; took up the •' Union," read it with new pleas- 
 ure ; attended again and again upon Mr. Relly, and was 
 
160 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 more and more astonished. Mr. Hitchins returned home, 
 but, as I conceived, \Q\y much changed ; more inconsistent 
 than ever. '' No, my dear," said my wife, ^' it is 3'OU who 
 are changed. He preaches, as I can prove b}' my notes, 
 precisely the same ; yet it is truly surprising that his multi- 
 plied contradictions have until now passed without our 
 observation." — "Well," said I, "what are we to do? 
 Can we in future bear such inconsistencies, now that we 
 are better informed? Suppose we keep our seats as usual ; 
 attending, however, one-half of every Sabbath, to the 
 preacher of Christ Jesus? " On this we immediatel}^ deter- 
 mined ; and, by this expedient, we imagined we might be 
 gratified b}^ hearing the truth, without running the risk of 
 losing our reputation ; for we well knew that, as professed 
 adherents of Mr. Rell}', we could no longer preserve that 
 spotless fame ive delighted to cherish. 
 
 I now commenced the reading of the Scriptures with 
 augmented diligence. The Bible was indeed a new book 
 to me ; the veil was taken from ray heart, and the word of 
 my God became right precious to my soul. Many Scrip- 
 tures that I had not known forcibly pressed upon my 
 observation ; and many that until now I had not suffered 
 mj'self to believe. Still the doctrine of election distressed 
 me. Unfortunatel}', I had connected this doctrine of e/ec^io?i 
 with the doctrine of final reprobation ; not considering that, 
 although the, first was indubitably a Scripture doctrine, the 
 last ivas not to be found in, nor could be supported by, revela- 
 tion. I determined to call upon and converse with Mr. 
 Hitchins on this important subject. I found him in his 
 study, encompassed about with the writings of great men. 
 '* I wait upon you, sir, for the purpose of obtaining help. 
 The Arminians show me many Scriptures which proclaim 
 
 i 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 161 
 
 the universality of the atonement. I cannot answer them. 
 What, ni}^ dear sir, shall I do?" — " Wh}', sir, the doc- 
 trines of election and reprobation are doctrines we are 
 bound to believe as articles of our faith ; but I can say with 
 the Rev. Mr. Hervej^, I never wish to think of them except 
 upon m}' knees. I never heard any one undertake to expUiin 
 them, who did not still further embarrass the subject. One 
 observation is, however, conclusive, and it never fails effec- 
 tually to silence the Arminian : that if, as they affirm, 
 Christ Jesus died for all men, then assuredly all men must 
 he saved; for no one can he eternally lost for whom the Re- 
 deemer shed his precious hlood; such an event is impossible. 
 Now, as the Arminians will not admit a possibility that all 
 will finally be saved, the}^ are thus easily confounded." 
 This, I thought, was very good ; it was clear as any testi- 
 mony in divine revelation, that Christ Jesus died for all, for 
 the sins of the whole world, for every man, etc. ; and even 
 Mr. Hitchins had declared, that every one for idiom Christ 
 died must fincdly he saved. This I took home with me to 
 m}' wife. She saw the truth, that we were so well prepared 
 to embrace, manifested even b}^ the testimou}- of its ene- 
 mies, and we were inexpressibly anxious to hear and to 
 understand. We now attended public worship, not onl}^ as 
 a duty, conceiving that we thus increased a fund of right- 
 eousness, upon which we were to draw in every exigence, 
 but it became our pleasure, our consolation, and our highest 
 enjoyment. We began to feed upon the truth as it is in 
 Jesus, and every discovery we made filled us with unutter- 
 able transport. I regarded my friends with increasing affec- 
 tion, and I conceived, if I had an opportunity of conversing 
 u'ith the whole world, the whole world would be convinced. 
 11 
 
162 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 It might truly have been said, that we had a taste of heaven 
 below. 
 
 It was soon whispered in the tabernacle, that I had fre- 
 quentlj^ been seen going to and coming from Kelly's meet- 
 ing ! This alarmed man}-, and one dear friend conversed 
 with me in private upon the subject, heard what, from the 
 abundance of my heart, my mouth was constrained to utter, 
 smiled, pitied me, and begged I would not be too commu- 
 nicative, lest the business should be brought before the 
 society, and excommunication might follow. I thanked 
 him for his caution ; but as I had conversed only with him^ I 
 had hazarded nothing. In a short time I was cited to ap- 
 pear before the society worshipping in Mr. Whitefield's 
 tabernacle. I obeyed the summons, and found myself in 
 the midst of a very gloomy company, all seemingly in great 
 distress. They sighed very bitterly, and at last gave me to 
 understand, that the3^ had heard I had become an attendant 
 upon that monster, Relly, and the}' wished to know if their 
 information was correct. I requested I might be told from 
 whom they had their intelligence ; and they were evidently 
 embarrassed by my question. Still, however, I insisted 
 upon being confronted with my accuser, and the^^ at length 
 consented to summon him ; but I was nearly petrified when 
 I learned it was the identical friend who had ^jrivately con- 
 versed with me, and ivho had privately cautioned me, that had 
 lodged the information against me ! Upon this friend I had 
 called, in my way to the tabernacle, confiding to him my 
 situation. He said he had feared the event; he pitied me 
 and prayed with me. But he did not calculate upon being 
 confronted with me, and his confusion was too great to suffer 
 his attendance. It was then referred to me : " Was it a 
 fact, I had attended upon Relly?" I had. " Did I believe 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURE AY. 163 
 
 what I had heard? " I answered that I did ; and m}^ trial 
 commenced. They could not prove I had violated those 
 articles to which I had subscribed. I had, in no point of 
 view, infringed the contract by which I was bound. But 
 they apprehended, if I continued to approbate Relly b)^ my 
 occasional attendance on his ministry, m}' example would 
 become contagious ; except, therefore, I would give them 
 my word that I would wholly' abandon this pernicious prac- 
 tice, they must, however unwilling^, pronounce upon me 
 the sentence of excommunication. I refused to bind my- 
 self by any promise. I assured them I would continue to 
 hear and to judge for myself; and that I held it m}^ dut}^ 
 to receive the truth of God wherever it might be manifested. 
 "But Rell}^ holds the truth in unrighteousness." — " I have 
 nothing to do with his unrighteousness ; m}^ own conduct 
 is not more reprehensible than heretofore." The}^ granted 
 this ; but the force of example was frequently irresistible, 
 and if I were permitted to follow, uncensured, my own in- 
 clination, others might claim the same indulgence, to the 
 utter perversion of their souls. It was then conceded in 
 my favor, that, if I would confine my sentiments to my 
 own bosom, the}' would continue me a member of their 
 communion. I refused to accede to this proposal. I would 
 not be under an obligation to remain silent. I must, so 
 often as opportunity might present, consider myself as called 
 upon to advocate truth. The question was then put : Should 
 I be considered a member of the society upon my own terms ? 
 And it was lost by only three voices. 
 
 It was one in the morning, when I returned home to m}' 
 poor, disconsolate wife, who was waiting for me, and when I 
 entered her apartment my spirits were so sunk, that, throw- 
 ing myself into a chair, I burst into tears. But the sweet 
 
164 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 soother of my every woe hastened to communicate that 
 consolation she was so eminently qualified to bestow. 
 " Now," said she, '' for tl\e j^rs^ time^ you know what it is 
 to suffer for Christ's sake ; and you must arm yourself with 
 fortitude to bear what the adherents of Mr. Relly must 
 always bear. Let us offer up praise and thanksgiving 
 that it is no worse. Fear not those who can only kill the 
 body. These, however, have not power to kill the body. 
 It is true, they can do more ; they can murder our good 
 name, which is rather to be chosen than life itself. But let 
 us not fear ; our God will be with us, he will preserve and 
 protect us." Our hearts, however, were very full, and with 
 great devotion we wept and praj'ed together. 
 
 About this time, the grandfather of my Eliza sent for her 
 to visit him at his country-seat, ten miles from London. 
 This was highly gratifjing, and abundantly more so, as I 
 also was included in the invitation. After seeing and con- 
 versing with me, he sincerel}^ lamented that he had been so 
 far duped b}' the artful and designing, as to put the dispo- 
 sition of the greater part of his property, at his decease, 
 entirely out of his ow^n power ; but what he could do he 
 most cheerfully did. Yet even here we were pursued by 
 disappointment. He requested me to procure him a capa- 
 ble, sober domestic ; and I engaged a woman, who, as I be- 
 lieved, answered his description ; but, proving an artful 
 huss}^ she gradually obtained over the mind of the old 
 gentleman an astonishing influence, that resulted in a mar- 
 riage, which effectually prevented his family connexions 
 from ever again visiting him ! Thus were our new-born 
 expectations, from a reconciled parent, levelled with the 
 dust. A series of calamities succeeded ; those whom I had 
 esteemed my best and dearest friends proved my most in- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 165 
 
 veterate foes, and, finding it impossible to reclaim us from 
 wliat they conceived the paths of error, persecuted us with 
 unceasing virulence. Presents^ bestowed in the da}^ of con- 
 fidence, as tokens of affection, were claimed as legal debts ; 
 and as the law does not allow presents, I was arrested for 
 the amount, betrayed by m}^ religious friends into the 
 hands of bailiff's, at a time when, had the promised lenity 
 been exercised, I could have paid to the utmost farthing. 
 Thus Heaven thought proper to keep us low ; but our faith 
 increased, and we cherished that hope which maketh not 
 ashamed ; and, even while struggling with diflSculties, we 
 enjoyed a heaven upon earth. Gradually I surmounted the 
 greater part of my diflSculties. At the house of our brother 
 William I had an interview with our once obdurate 3'ounger 
 brother ; he seemed penetrated with sorrow for our long 
 continued estrangement ; he Imng upon m}^ neck, wept bit- 
 terly, and expressed a fear that I could never forgive him. 
 I, also, shed many tears, and, extending to him the hand of 
 amity, clasped him to my bosom with a most cordial em- 
 brace. This was a most pleasant circumstance to m}^ be- 
 loved Eliza. All now seemed delightful. We had a sweet 
 little retirement in a rural part of the cit3\ We wanted 
 but little, and our wants were all supplied ; and perhaps we 
 enjoyed as much as human nature can enjoy. One dear 
 pledge of love, a son, whom my wife regarded as the image 
 of his father, completed our felicit3^ But, alas ! this \>oy 
 was lent us no more than one short year ! He expired in the 
 arms of his agonized mother, whose health, from that fatal 
 moment, began to decline. I was be3'ond expression terri- 
 fied. Physicians recommended the countr}^ ; but m}' busi- 
 ness confined me in London, and my circumstances would 
 not admit of my renting two houses. I took lodgings at a 
 
166 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 small distance from town, returning m^'self every day to 
 London. The disorder advanced with terrific strides. My 
 soul was tortured. Every time I approached her chamber, 
 even the sigh which proclaimed she still lived administered 
 a melancholy relief. This was indeed a time of sorrow and 
 distress beyond what I had ever before known. I have 
 been astonished how I existed through such scenes. Sure- 
 ly, in every time of trouble, God is a very present help. 
 I was obliged to remove the dear creature, during her re- 
 duced situation, the house in which I had taken lodgings 
 being sold ; but I obtained for her a situation about four 
 miles from town. The scenes around her new lodgings 
 were charming. She seemed pleased, and I was delighted. 
 For a few days we believed her better, and again I expe- 
 rienced all the rapture of hope. My dilhculties, however, 
 were many. I was necessitated to pass ra}^ days in Lon- 
 don. Could I have continued with her, it would have been 
 some relief. But as my physician gave me no hope, when 
 I parted from her in the morning, I was frequently terrified 
 in the dread of meeting death on my return. Often, for my 
 sake, did this sweet angel struggle to appear relieved ; but, 
 alas ! I could discern it was a struggle, and my anguish 
 became still more poignant. To add to my distress, pov- 
 erty came in like a flood. I had ni}' house in town, a ser- 
 vant there ; the doctor, the apothecary, the nurse, the lodg- 
 ings in the country, — everything to provide ; daily passing 
 and repassing. Truly my heart was very sore. I was 
 friendless. My religious friends had, on my hearing and 
 advocating the doctrines preached by all God's holy proph- 
 ets ever since the world began, become my most inveterate 
 foes. Our grandfather was under the dominion of the 
 woman 1 had introduced to him, who had barred his doors 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHX MURRAY. 167 
 
 against us. The heart of our 3'ounger brother was again 
 closed, and, as if angry with himself for the concessions 
 he had made, was more than ever estranged ; and even 
 our elder brother, who, in every situation, had for a long 
 season evinced himself my faithful friend, had forsaken 
 us! I had, most indiscreetl}-, ventured to point out 
 some errors in the domestic arrangements of his wife, 
 which I believed would eventuate in his ruin, and he so 
 far resented this freedom as to abandon all intercourse 
 with me. Among Mr. Kelly's acquaintance I had no 
 intimates, indeed, hardly an acquaintance. I had suf- 
 fered so much from religious connections, that I had de- 
 termined as much as possible to stand aloof during the 
 residue of m}^ journe}^ through life. Thus was I circum- 
 stanced, when the fell destroyer of my peace aimed his 
 most deadly shafts at the bosom of a being far dearer to 
 me than nay existence. My credit failing, my wants multi- 
 plying, blessed be God, my Eliza was ignorant of the 
 extent of my sufferings ! She would have surrendered up 
 her life, even if she had feared death, rather than have per- 
 mitted an application to either of her brothers ; yet was I 
 by the extremity of my distress precipitated upon a step 
 so humiliating. Stopping at a coffee-house near our 
 brother William's, I penned a hurried line, requesting he 
 would give me an immediate meeting ; and sending it by 
 a porter, I waited in agon}- indescribable its effect. Almost 
 instantaneously he entered the coffee-house, and, with- 
 out uttering a word, took a seat ; nor was I for some mo- 
 ments able to articulate. M}^ soul was tortured ; he saw 
 it, and could not avoid feeling. At length he questioned, 
 '' Pray, what is the matter?" — " Your sister is very near 
 her end, and, were we both so, it would be to me the cause 
 
168 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 of exultation, and you would have been spared this trouble. 
 My application to you will be a sufficient explanation of 
 my circumstances ; and should you think proper to call 
 upon a once dear, now dying sister, I have to request you 
 would not notice my having sought this interview ; it would 
 embitter the last moments of her life." He was amazingh' 
 shocked, yet, as this was the first syllable he had heard of 
 her indisposition, he flattered himself my fears had mag- 
 nified the danger ; but he assured me he would see her 
 without delay. I, however, desired he would grant me time 
 to prepare her for his visit. '• It must," said I, " appear en- 
 tirely accidental." And I hastened to our lodgings. " I 
 met your brother William, my love, who, having heard 3'ou 
 are indisposed, kindly inquired after you. I think he means 
 to visit you." — " If, my precious friend, you have not de- 
 scended so low as to ask any favor of him, I shall be glad 
 to see him." — "I will not, my love, do anj^thing which I 
 ought not to do." I sat down by her bedside. That face 
 upon which strangers had gazed enraptured, was now the 
 seat of death's wan harbinger, and her struggles to conceal 
 her suSerings were but too visible. Quitting the room, I 
 inquired of the nurse how she had been during my absence. 
 She told me she had endured much pain, was very anxious 
 foi" my return, and expressed a fear that she should never 
 again behold me. I was summoned b}^ the mistress of the 
 house, who was so charmed by the deportment of m}' 
 Eliza, and had conceived so great an aff'ection for her, as 
 to find it difficult to quit her apartment. But my suffering 
 friend, taking my hand, and drawing me near her, whis- 
 pered a wish that we might be alone. I gave the good lady 
 a hint, who instantly withdrew. 
 
 I kneeled b}^ her bedside ; she drew me closer to her, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 169 
 
 and throwing her feeble, her emaciated arms around my 
 neck she gave me an ardent embrace. I was unutterabl}' 
 affected. "Be composed, my dear," said she, "and let 
 these precious moments be as calm as possible ; we ma}" 
 not be allowed another opportunit}-. Dear, faithful friend 
 in life, — in death dearer to me than m}' own soul, — God 
 reward you for all the kind care you have taken of me ! 
 Oh, ma}" m}" heavenly Father provide some one to siippl}" 
 my place, who may reciprocate the kindness you have 
 shown me ! Pray be composed. Remember we are not at 
 home ; that we shall shortly meet in our Father's house — " 
 here she paused, and again resuming: "Our parting, 
 when compared with eternit}", will be but for a moment. 
 What though we have not continued together so long as 
 we fondly expected, 3'et, m}' love, we have had an age of 
 happiness. It is you, m}^ precious husband, who are the 
 object of pit}". God all-gracious console and support you. 
 Be of good cheer, my love, we shall meet in the kingdom 
 of the Redeemer, — indeed, indeed we shall." Again she 
 threw her dyiug arms around me. Her soul seemed strug- 
 gling with the magnitude of her emotions. For me, I 
 could not have articulated a syllable for the world. It is 
 astonishing I did not expire. But there is a time to die. 
 Again, like the wasting taper, she seemed to revive. 
 Again, with uncommon energy, she pronounced upon her 
 almost frenzied husband the solemn benediction. This 
 brought on a cough. She pointed to a phial upon her 
 dressing-table. I gave her a few drops. "There, my 
 best friend, I am better ; be composed, my faithful, ray 
 suffering guide, protector, husband. Oh, trust in the 
 Lord ! Let us, my love, stay upon the God of our salva- 
 tion. He will never leave us. He vrill never forsake us." 
 
170 LIFE OF EEV. JOnX MURRAY. 
 
 Then, grasping my hand, she continued : '' These mo- 
 ments, my dear, are very precious ; we have had many 
 precious moments. You will not go out again. I shall 
 not again lose sight of 3'ou. You will abide with me so 
 long as I shall continue — " I could contain no longer. 
 My suppressed agony became audible. She drew me to 
 her: "Do not distress me, m}^ love." She was deeply 
 affected. Her cough came on with additional violence. 
 The sound of my voice brought in the kind lad}^ of the 
 house ; she believed the angel had escaped. I requested 
 her to reach the phial. The expiring saint motioned it 
 away. "It is too late, m}^ love," she would have added ; 
 but utterance instantl}' failed her, and without a single 
 struggle she breathed her last, still holding my hand fast 
 in hers. 1 was on my knees by her bedside. I saw she 
 was breathless ; but she still held my hand. Ten thousand 
 worlds, had I possessed them, I would have given for per- 
 mission to have accompanied her beatified spirit. I am 
 astonished that I retained vcLy reason. Onl}^ a few weeks, 
 a few tremendous weeks, since the commencement of her 
 illness had rolled on, when, kneeling in speechless agon}" 
 b}' her bedside, I saw her breathe her last. She expired 
 without a sigh, without a pang, and I was left to the 
 extreme of wretchedness. A few moments gave me to 
 reflection. I contemplated her form beautiful even in 
 death. She was no more a sufferer either in bod}' or 
 mind ; and, for a little while, I derived malignant satisfac- 
 tion from the consideration of what her brothers would 
 endure when the}^ found that in this world they should no 
 more behold her. I was shocked at myself. It seemed as 
 if the sainted spirit mildly reproved me. I clasped my 
 hands in agony. I supplicated pardon of the deceased 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 171 
 
 and of her God. It appeared to me I bad been deficient 
 in affection, and tbe idea spoke daggers to my soul. 
 Memor}' cruelly summoned before me man}' instances in 
 which she might have been obliged ; but distraction was in 
 this thought. I sat in speechless agony b}' her bedside. 
 Having locked the door, no one could obtain entrance. 
 Almighty God, how unutterable were the sorrows of my 
 soul ! 
 
 I was aroused from this state by the arrival of our 
 brother William. He obtained entrance ; he glanced upon 
 the bed, gazed for a moment, averted his ej'es, trembled, 
 and became pale as the face of my lamented saint, and 
 at length in silent agou\' quitted the apartment. The 
 good lady of the house now made her appearance, and in 
 a tone of sympath}' supplicated me to retire. The neces- 
 sary offices were performed, and all that remained of m}^ 
 wedded friend was prepared for the undertaker, who came 
 by the order of her opulent brother, — that brother who 
 had nefariousl}' robbed her of her right of inheritance, 
 who contributed so largely-, while she lived, to her suffer- 
 ings, and who now endured anguish more than equivalent 
 for all the riches of the world. A hearse and mourning 
 coaches attended ; and the dear remains, followed b} her 
 brothers and their families, were entombed in the family 
 vault. The coachman was directed to convey me, after 
 tlie interment, to the house of our 3'ounger brother. He 
 was again a pre}' to contrition and to sorrow, and he urged 
 me to cherish hope. I assured him I had nothing to do 
 with hope, at least in this world. He made great pro- 
 fessions of affection, and liberal promises of future kind- 
 ness. But it was too late : and though I believe he was 
 
172 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 at the time sincere, yet, when his strong feelings subsided, 
 he was himself again. 
 
 Here I close another period of ray eventful life. What 
 a sad reverse ! A few short weeks since, I was in the 
 most enviable circumstances. My situation was charming, 
 my dwelling neat and commodious ; m}^ wife, the object of 
 my soul's devout and sincere affection ; her lovely offspring 
 swelling the rapture of the scene ; male and female do- 
 mestics attached to our persons, and faithful to our inter- 
 est ; and the pleasing hope that I should enjoy a long suc- 
 cession of these delights. Now I was alone in the world. 
 No wife, no child, no domestics, no home ; nothing but 
 the ghosts of my departed joys. In religion, and religion 
 onl}', the last resort of the wretched, I found the sem- 
 blance of repose. Religion taught me to contemplate the 
 state to which I was hastening. My dreams presented 
 my departed Eliza. I saw her in a variety of views, but 
 in every view celestial ; sometimes she was still living, but 
 in haste to be gone ; sometimes she descended upon my 
 imagination, a heavenly visitant commissioned to con- 
 duct me home. And so much of felicity did I derive 
 from those dreams that I longed for the hour of repose, 
 that I might reiterate the visionary bliss. 
 
 But new embarrassments awaited me ; doctors, apothe- 
 caries, grocers, etc., etc., advanced with their bills; yet I 
 was not much affected. I was overwhelmed by far greater 
 alflictions. My health had greatly suffered. My sight, 
 by excess of sorrow, — so said my physician, — was 
 almost gone. Often have I traversed George's Fields, 
 where man 3^ have met death on the point of the footpad's 
 dagger, in the mournful hope of meeting a similar fate : 
 forgetting, in the state to which I was reduced, that in 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 173 
 
 thus devoting myself to destruction I indubitably ranked 
 with the self-murderer. The eldest brother of my de- 
 parted friend continued from the period of his sister's 
 demise uniformly kind. Through his instrumentality, 
 many of m}^ most pressing debts were discharged. My 
 mind seemed subdued ; it became a fit residence for sor- 
 row, when I received a letter from Ireland written by my 
 brother James. Many of our family were numbered with 
 the dead ; of all her children, m}' mother had now only 
 three surviving sons and two daughters. My eldest sister 
 was married, and my mother, leaving our common prop- 
 erty in her care, was about to repair with her youngest 
 daughter and two sons to England. She was not apprised 
 of the death of my Eliza. I had written her that I was 
 blessed with a most lovely and exemplary companion ; but 
 from the death of my son, and the farther and entire pros- 
 tration of my terrestrial happiness, I had suspended my 
 communications. I was now again necessitated to take a 
 house. My mother and m}^ brothers resided with me ; and 
 my sister with a lady to whom she had been introduced in 
 Ireland. She soon after married, and, as I believed, im- 
 prudentl}^ and I saw her no more. I now lived a mourn- 
 ful life. The world appeared to me in a very different 
 point of view from what it had formerl}^ done ; y^i I de- 
 rived ecstatic pleasure from my views of revelation. Wil- 
 liam Neale became convinced of the truth, as it is in Jesus ; 
 and, of course, an adherent of Mr. Relly. This soothed 
 me, and the word of God was an abiding consolation. To 
 a few individuals I was made a messenger of peace ; but 
 my mother and my brother James remained inveterate 
 opposers of the doctrines I had embraced. I sometimes 
 visited the tabernacle, and, conceiving an affection for all 
 
174 LIFE OF REV. JOnN MURRAY. 
 
 meD, I had a kind of satisfaction in standing in the midst 
 of my brethren. It was at the tabernacle I was informed 
 that a poor, unhapp}', widowed woman, sister to a man 
 whom I had loved, was in most deplorable circumstances. 
 She had been deceived b}' a villain ; her kindred had been 
 made acquainted with her situation, but their indignation 
 was kindled against her ; they would not see her ; and her 
 religious connections abandoned her while she was suffer- 
 ing all the miseries of want accompanied by her own 
 agonizing reflections. I discovered her in a miserable 
 room ; no glass in the windows, no fire in the chimney. 
 She was lying on something which had been a bed ; a 
 child of a few da3's old in her bosom, but no nourishment 
 for it ; another child dekd by her side, and a third ap- 
 parently dying. Upon my entrance she covered her face 
 with her hands. " I know you, sir ; you are come to up- 
 braid me. Yes, I deserve it all ; but, by and b}', my 
 measure will be full." I burst into tears. " I come to 
 upbraid you? God forbid. No, poor sufferer; I am 
 come a messenger from that God, who giveth liberall}', 
 and upbraideth not. Be of good cheer ; you have still a 
 Father who loves you with an everlasting love, and he has 
 sent me to comfort you ; he has seen your affliction, and 
 he has bid me relieve j^ou." 
 
 This seemed too much for the poor, forlorn creature ; she 
 appeared in the moment of expiring. I ran out of the 
 house, into a shop at the corner of the alley, the mistress 
 of which was, to my knowledge, perfectly acquainted with 
 the situation of the sufferer. I demanded why she thus 
 neglected a human being. " Ah, the wretched crea- 
 ture, she deserves this and more," was this good iooman''s 
 •reply. But, although neither the love of God, nor of human 
 
 i 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 175 
 
 nature could move this hard-hearted woman, I had that in 
 my pocket, which possessed, for her, an irresistible charm ; 
 and at the hazard of my reputation, I bade her procure 
 coal, a restorative cordial, and a blanket to cover the 
 sufferer. I then proceeded to the dwelling of a lad}^, one 
 of Mr. Kelly's congregation, to whom 1 had recently' been 
 introduced. I represented the situation, in wliich, in the 
 midst of an opulent city, I had discovered a fellow-creature. 
 The lady was extremely affected, and her aid was instan- 
 taneous. The next day, Sunday, I again visited the 
 poor penitent, whom I found relieved and comforted. 
 She requested me, with man}' tears, to put up a note 
 for her." There happened, on that day, to preach in 
 the tabernacle a Mr. Edwards, whom I had formerly 
 known, in connection with Mr. Wesley. I presented a 
 note in the following words : " The prayers of this con- 
 gregation are requested in behalf of a widow indeed, 
 confined to a bed of sickness, without propert}' and en- 
 compassed by the dj^ing and the dead." I attended again 
 in the tabernacle in the evening, and when the sermon 
 closed, Mr. Edwards said : "If the person be here who 
 put up the note this morning, in behalf of a widow indeed, 
 I should be glad to speak with him in the vestry." Ac- 
 cordingly presenting m3'self, I was very cordially received 
 by Mr. Edwards, who observed, he was happy I was the 
 person ; that his feelings had been greatly affected by the 
 note ; that he had read it to a lady, at whose house he had 
 dined, who, putting two guineas into his hand, requested 
 him, if possible, to find out the widow indeed, and bestow 
 them upon her. I conve3'ed this little sum to the sorrow- 
 ing woman, with feelings which those who know how to 
 sympathize with the unfortunate will easilj^ understand ; 
 
176 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and I assured the poor mourner, that the God who gives 
 and forgives had sent her another proof of his favor. 
 "Arise," said I, " forlorn sufferer, and sin no more." I had 
 the charge of the child's funeral ; the other recovered. The 
 mother was soon abroad, and continued ever after to con- 
 duct with exemplary propriet}'. This instance, among a 
 thousand others, proves that faith in the promises is the 
 best stimulus to that pure and undefiled religion which 
 consists in relieving the oppressed of every description. 
 And with gratitude I confess, that this pure and undefiled 
 religion was, to me, a never-failing source of consolation. 
 I was full of the gospel. Gladly would I have sacrificed 
 my life, if I might thus have brought all men acquainted 
 with the riches of the grace of the gospel of God our 
 Saviour. And my soul was often wrought up to a degree 
 of ecstasy b}^ the views exhibited to my understanding in 
 the pages of divine revelation. Yes, I have experienced 
 that a belief of the truth disposes the mind to love God, 
 and to do good to man. And so greatly was my heart 
 afl^^ected by the plan of redemption, that I have, in the 
 midst of the streets of London, been so entranced in con- 
 templating its glories, that I have only been awakened to 
 recollection by the jostling crowd, who wondered as they 
 passed. Yet, while in the fulness of m}^ heart I embraced 
 every opportunity of expatiating upon the great salvation, 
 everything beside had lost the power to charm, or even 
 tranquillize, and the torturing sensations I experienced, 
 from reflecting upon past times, were not to be expressed. 
 Death had for me an angel's face, and I viewed this some- 
 times king of terrors as my emancipating friend. 
 
 The forbearance of my creditors was at length exhausted. 
 Debts crowded upon me. Demands, which I was utterly 
 
I 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 177 
 
 unable to answer, were continually made. Had the health 
 of my lovel}^ wife been continued I was in a very fine way. 
 Her sickness, her death, by dashing from me the cup of 
 felicity, while expenses accumulated, debilitated my mind, 
 and rendered me unequal to those efforts which m}' exi- 
 gencies required. In the midst of ni}" supineness, I was 
 taken by a writ, and borne to a sponging-house. My 
 sensations were, on this occasion, very different from 
 those which I had formerly experienced in a similar situa- 
 tion, and I derived from the expected seclusion a kind 
 of melanchol}" pleasure. The officer was astonished at my 
 apathy. I refused sustenance ; I had no inclination for 
 food. I would swallow nothing but water. I would have 
 no bed. A bed must be paid for, and I was penniless. 
 I slept on the floor of a room hung with cobwebs, the 
 windows of which were secured by iron bars. I prayed 
 most fervently to Him, with whom are the issues of life and 
 death, that as he had not allowed his creatures the privi- 
 lege of departing out of time when and how the}' pleased, 
 he would graciously vouchsafe to grant me my deliverance 
 from a world where I could serve neither my God, my 
 neighbor, nor myself. But, alas ! as I have often found, 
 death comes not at call. The barred windows admitted 
 just light enough to announce the return of day ; soon 
 after which the keeper unlocked the door, and in a surly 
 manner asked me how I did. " Indifferent, sir," I replied. 
 
 '' By , I think so ! but, sir, give me leave to tell you, 
 
 / am not indifferent, and if 3'ou do not very soon settle 
 with your creditors, I shall take the liberty to lodge you 
 in Newgate. I keep nobod}^ in my house that does not 
 
 spend anj'thing, me. I cannot keep house, and pay 
 
 rent and taxes, for nothing. When a gentleman behaves 
 12 
 
178 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 civil, I behave civil ; but, me, if ttiey are sulkj^ why 
 
 then do ye see, I can be sulky too. So, sir, you had better 
 tell me what you intend to do." — " Nothing. " — " Noth- 
 ing? me, that's a good one ; then b}^ you shall 
 
 soon see /will do something that 3'ou will not very well 
 like." He then turned upon his heel, drew the door with 
 a vengeance, and double-locked it. Soon after this his 
 helpmate presented herself, and began to apologize for her 
 husband ; said he was very quick ; hoped I w^ould not be 
 oflfended, for he was a very good man in the main ; that 
 she believed there never was a gentleman in that house 
 (and she would be bold to say, there had been as good 
 gentlemen there as in an}^ house in London) who had 
 ever any reason to complain of his conduct. He would 
 wait upon any of my friends to whom I should think fit 
 to send him, and do all in his power to make matters easy. 
 " And if you please, sir, you are welcome to come down 
 into the parlor and breakfast with me." — " And pray, my 
 good lady, where are you to get your pay? " — " Oh, I will 
 trust to that, sir ; I am sure you are a gentleman. Do, sir, 
 come down and breakfast ; you will be better after break- 
 fast. Bless your soul, sir, why there have been hundreds, 
 who settled their affairs, and did very well afterwards." 
 I was prevailed upon to go down to breakfast. There was, 
 in the centre of the entry, a door half way up, with long 
 pikes ; every window was barred with iron ; escape was 
 impossible ; and indeed I had no wish to escape. A kind 
 of mournful insensibility pervaded my soul, for which I 
 w^as not then disposed to account, but which I have since 
 regarded as an instance of divine goodness, calculated to 
 preserve my little remains of health, as well as that reason 
 which had frequently tottered in its seat. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 179 
 
 To the impertinent prattle of the female turnke}^ I paid 
 no attention ; but, hastil}^ s^Yallowing a cup of tea, I re- 
 tired to my prison. This irritated her. She expected I 
 would have tarried below, and, as is the custom, summoned 
 m}' friends, who, whether they did anything for m}^ advan- 
 tage or not, would, by calling for punch, wine, etc., etc., 
 unquestionably contribute to the advantage of the house. 
 But as I made no proposal of this kind, nor indeed ever 
 intended so to do, they saw it was improbable the}^ should 
 reap any benefit by or from me ; and having given me a 
 plentiful share of abuse, and appearing much provoked that 
 they could not move me to anger, they were preparing to 
 carry me to Newgate, there to leave me among other poor, 
 desperate debtors; and their determination being thus 
 fixed, T was at liberty to continue in mj^ gloomy apartment, 
 and, what I esteemed an especial favor, to remain there 
 uninterrupted. I received no invitation either to dinner, 
 tea, or supper. They just condescended to inform me, 
 when the}^ came to lock me in, that I should have another 
 lodging the ensuing night ; to which I made no reply. M3" 
 spirits, however, sunk in the prospect of Newgate. There, 
 I was well informed, I could not be alone. There, I knew, 
 my associates would many of them be atrocious offenders, 
 and I was, in truth, immeasurably distressed. It was now 
 that ever}^ argument which I had ever read in favor of 
 suicide was most officiously obtruded upon my mind, and 
 warmly impressed upon my imagination. It was stated 
 that m}^ Almighty Father could not be angry with me for 
 leaving such a world, in such circumstances. The opposi- 
 tion of reason seemed to result from the prejudices of edu- 
 cation ; " and," said illusive fancy. '' as it is appointed for 
 ail men once to die, to do that to-day which I may do to- 
 
180 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 morrow, and what I must shortly do, cannot be very 
 wrong." It is true, my monitor assured me that the God 
 who had created me was the oxiXy proper judge of the exact 
 moment when I ought to be removed out of time ; that 
 he best knew what benefit might accrue to myself, or the 
 community, hy my longer continuance in this vale of tears. 
 Yet these remarks, with many more of the same descrip- 
 tion, were not sufficiently imposing to endow me with reso- 
 lution still to '' abide the pelting of the pitiless storm; " and 
 I determined to finish my wretched existence before the 
 dawning of another morning. This was indeed a night of 
 horror. But in the moment of executing my fatal, my God- 
 dishonoring purpose, the image of my Eliza, irradiating the 
 prison walls, seemed to stand before me. She appeared as 
 if commissioned by Heaven to soothe my tortured spirit. 
 I prostrated myself before the perhaps imaginary vision, 
 and, for the first moment since I had occupied this dreary 
 abode, my heart softened, and a shower of tears came to 
 my relief; yea, and I was relieved. My soul became calm, 
 and although every hope from this world was extinct in my 
 bosom, yet I believed I should be better able to accommo- 
 date myself to whatever sufferings the Almighty might 
 think proper to inflict. I passed the rem^iinder of the night 
 in endeavoring to fortify my mind. A pleasing melancholy 
 took possession of my spirit. I drew consolation from 
 remembering the time of suffering was not long ; that there 
 was a rest, a life of uninterrupted felicity bej'ond the grave ; 
 that of this rest, this life, no power on earth could deprive 
 me ; and that I ought therefore quietly to wait, and patiently 
 to hope, for the salvation of my God. Thus, although my 
 night had been sleepless, my mind became so calm, and my 
 spirit so greatly refreshed, that when tlie keeper opened the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUBRAY. 181 
 
 door in the morning to inform me that in three hours he 
 should lodge me in Newgate, I answered, with unaffected 
 composure, " I am read}-, sir." 
 
 In less than an hour, however, I had a new source of 
 inquietude. My brother, William Neale, having received a 
 hint of the arrest, had searched from place to place, until 
 at length finding me, with tears of S3'mpath3' lie reproached 
 me, even in the presence of the woman, for not immediatelj^ 
 summoning- him to my relief. This female turnke}', observ- 
 ing the appearance of my brother, and the feeling manner 
 in which he addressed me, began to hope, notwithstanding 
 what she had termed my obstinacy, that the}^ should reap 
 some benefit from me after all. "Why," said William, 
 " did you not send for me immediately upon your entering 
 this house ? " — " Ay, dear sir, so I said ; wh}^, dear sir, 
 said I, cannot you send for some of 3'our friends? for I 
 know'd as how the gentleman had many friends, and my 
 husband would have gone himself to any part of the town, 
 with all his soul. No one can ever say that we were back- 
 ward in doing everything in our power to serve and oblige 
 ever^" gentleman that ever came into our house. And, 
 though I saj^ it that should not sa}- it, I believe there is not 
 a house in our way, in London, that'has ever had more good 
 people in it as a body may sa}^ than ours. And, saj's I, 
 Lord, sir, says I, 3^ou need not for to make 3^ourself uneas3'. 
 It is no crime, sa3"s I, to be in diflSculty, or the like of that ; 
 the best people in the world, sa3's I, are in the greatest 
 diflSculties, sa3^s I. I am sure I have had my share of 
 troubles and difficulties in this world, sa3's I ; but I had 
 better, sa3's I, have them here, than in a worse place. I 
 hope I shall atone for all my sins here." Thus did this 
 creature's tongue run, and would have continued so to do, 
 
182 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 had not my brother asked if I had breakfasted. " Ay, sir, 
 I am glad to hear 3'ou say something of that. The poor 
 gentleman has not seemed to care anything about eating or 
 drinking ; for my part I was frightened, in the dread of the 
 poor gentleman's dying in the house. I would have urged 
 him over and over again ; but, said I, maybe he will think 
 as how that I mean my own interest, and so I did not care 
 to say much about it ; but, sir, the poor gentleman can't 
 think you have any interest." — "Get breakfast, ma'am." 
 — " Tea or coffee, gentlemen ? " — " Both, ma'am ; and, 
 do you hear, let us have a private room." — " Yes, sir." 
 When left alone, my friend and brother again reproached 
 me for delating my communications to him. I frankl}^ told 
 him that I was so far from being disposed to solicit his aid, 
 that I seriously regretted he had discovered me ; that I had 
 no wish to involve m}^ friends in my difficulties ; that I 
 would much rather continue a prisoner for the remainder of 
 my life than incur obligations which I had no prospect of 
 discharging. " Poh, poh ! " said he, " this is idle talk. 
 You cannot believe you would be the onh' sufferer from 
 your continuing endurance." — "But I should not suffer 
 long." — " You know not how long, however. Drop the sub- 
 ject, here is breakfast. Sit you down, and let us breakfast 
 together ; we will resume our subject by and b3\" — " Yes, 
 William, we will resume our subject by and b}' ; but suffer 
 me to observe, 3'ou shall not come under bonds on my 
 account, neither shall you discharge my debts. Consent to 
 this stipulation, or I touch no breakfast." — " Pshaw, 
 pshaw ! how whimsical ; but eat your breakfast, man. I 
 promise I will do neither." We then breakfasted in peace, 
 and I derived a mournful kind of pleasure from the assur- 
 ance that 1 should not involve the brother of Eliza in my 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 183 
 
 ruin. But how great was my astonishment, when he or- 
 dered in the officer, who was also master of the house, 
 when, after demanding and discharging his bill, he pro- 
 duced a receipt in full from my creditor, and a complete 
 discharge for me. Thus was I liberated from the fangs of 
 these harpies, and I accompanied this commiserating brother 
 to his hospitable mansion, where he related to me the means 
 by which he had discovered me. 
 
 Quitting this noble-minded friend, I hastened home to my 
 suffering mother, who was in agonies on my account. 
 Ignorant where I was, or what was my situation, her appre- 
 hensions were of the most fearful kind. We mingled our 
 tears, while she most affection atel}' endeavored to soothe 
 me and to bind up m}^ broken heart ; but my only remain- 
 ing hope was, that, in this distempered state, I had not 
 long to suffer. But, alas ! here also I was deceived. Long, 
 very long have I continued, and with heartfelt sorrow, to 
 tread this thorny maze. The brothers of m}^ departed angel 
 combined to help me forward ; many plans were proposed 
 for me. A sum of monej^ was hired, to place me as a part- 
 ner in a mercantile house, and my brothers were my bonds- 
 men ! I detested the thought of new prospects from such 
 a world as this, but, to my beloved William, I was largely 
 in debt. He had a growing family, and both gratitude 
 as well as justice demanded I should make every effort for 
 his remuneration. Thus I again became a melancholy man 
 of business. It was supposed the road, not only to com- 
 petenc}', but to affluence, was open before me, and I was 
 pronouucecr in flourishing circumstances. It was, for those 
 who loved me, a pleasing dream ; but soon the golden vision 
 vanished, and I awoke to the certainty of its being no more 
 than a dream. 
 
184 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 Again I returned to my lonel}^ dwelling, pleased with the 
 thought that my solitude would no more be interrupted ; 
 again I detested the world, and all which it could bestow. 
 Thus a few more melancholy months rolled mournfully 
 away, and I expected to finish my daj^s in the retirement 
 to which I was devoted. One consideration, however, still 
 pressed heavily upon my mind. The very considerable 
 sums for which I was indebted to my generous brother 
 were to me a might}^ burden ; and this beloved brother, 
 availing himself of my anxiety on this account, once more 
 set me afloat. Many were the efforts to which I consented ; 
 great were my mental sacrifices. But one expedient re- 
 mained ; it was a mournful expedient. I will not delineate. 
 I pause ; I throw a veil over many revolving months ; let it 
 sufllce to say my purpose was gained, my debts were paid, 
 my pecuniary circumstances eas}' ; but this was all. How 
 mysterious are the ways of Heaven ! How many torturing 
 scenes I have passed through ! But, blessed be God, 1 
 have passed through them ! Thanks be to the Father of 
 mercies, they can no more be reiterated. My newly ac- 
 quired competency possessed no charms for me. I derived 
 no satisfaction from anything around me. In fact, I had 
 nothing in prospect, and hope seemed to have expired in 
 my bosom. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BEREAVED MAN, QUITTING HIS NATIVE SHORES, EM- 
 BARKS FOR AMERICA, INDULGING THE FOND HOPE OF 
 SEQUESTERING HIMSELF IN THE SOLITUDE FOR WHICH HE 
 
 SIGHED. BUT, CONTRARY TO HIS EXPECTATIONS, A SERIES 
 
 OF CIRCUMSTANCES COMBINE TO MAKE HIM A PROMULGA- 
 TOR OF THE GOSPEL OF GOD, OUR SAVIOUR. 
 
 Death's sable pall o'er all my pleasures thrown, 
 My native isle to me a desert grown ; 
 Sad and forlorn, to the New World I fled, 
 Amid its wilds to shield my widowed head. 
 
 Having, as has been described, laid the companion of 
 my 3'outh, the wife of m}^ bosom, in the grave, my spirit 
 still hovered round her tomb. It has been seen that my 
 life seemed devoted to misery ; that I wept at all times, 
 except when- 1 turned my attention to that bright world, 
 upon which I imagined I was verging ; that I wished the 
 act of putting a period to a weaiy life had ranked among 
 the Christian virtues ; that I never more passionately 
 longed for any good, than for the period which was to put 
 an end to my existence ; that T had but few acquaintances ; 
 that I wished not to form new connections ; that I was 
 sick of the world and all which it could bestow ; that the 
 retirement of m}' lonely dwelling was most acceptable to 
 me ; that I abhorred the thought of expecting anything like 
 happiness in this world ; and that I thus passed weeks and 
 months, verily believing that I should thus finish mj^ daj's, 
 which I cherished a soothing hope would soon be numbered. 
 
 185 
 
186 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 Through those sad scenes of sorrow to which I was con- 
 demned, I had one friend, — one earthly friend, — from whom 
 I derived real consolation. This friend was Mr. James 
 Relly, the man who had been made an instrument, in the 
 hand of God, of leading me into an acquaintance with the 
 truth as it is in Jesus. This kind friend often visited me ; 
 and in conversing with him I found my heart lightened of 
 its burden. I could better bear the pitiless storm that beat 
 upon me, when strengthened by the example of this son of 
 sorrow. We frequently conversed- upon things of the king 
 dom, and Mr. Relly, observing my heart much warmed and 
 enlarged by these subjects, urged me to g:i forth and make 
 mention of the loving-kindness of God. " No, no," I con- 
 stantly replied, " it is not my design again to step forth in a 
 public character. I have been a promulgator of falsehood." 
 — " And why not," he would interrupt, " a promulgator of 
 truth? Surely you owe this atonement to the God who 
 hath irradiated your understanding by the light of his coun- 
 tenance." But no argument he made use of was sufficiently 
 strong to excite in my bosom a single wish that I had 
 either inclination or capability for a character so arduous ; 
 m}'' heart's desire was to pass through life, wn/iearci, unseen^ 
 unknown to all, as though I ne^er had been. I had an aver- 
 sion to society ; and, since I could not be permitted to 
 leave the world, I was solicitous to retire from its noise 
 and its nonsense. I was, indeed, a burden to myself, and 
 no advantage to anj^body else. Every place, every thing 
 served to render me more miserable, for they led my mind 
 to the contemplation of past scenes, — of scenes never 
 more to return. Such was the situation of mind, when, at 
 the house of one of Mr. Kelly's hearers, 1 accidentally met 
 a gentleman from America. 1 listened with attention to 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 187 
 
 his account of the country in which he had so long resided. 
 I was charmed with his description of its extent, its forests, 
 its lakes, its rivers, its towns, its inhabitants, the liberty 
 they enjoyed, and the peace and plenty which they pos- 
 sessed. I listened to everything with astonishment ; and I 
 turned toward the New World my most ardent wishes. I 
 communicated m}' desire to visit America to my mother, 
 to my brethren. I was ridiculed for entertaining a project 
 so chimerical. What, cross the Atlantic? For what pur- 
 pose ? To whom would I go ? What could I do ? What 
 object could I have in view? I was unable to answer any 
 of these questions. I had not a single acquaintance in 
 America ; indeed, I had no wish to make acquaintance. I 
 had nothing in prospect but a kind of negative happiness.. 
 I did not mean to commence a voyage in pursuit of bliss, but 
 to avoid if possible a part of my misery. 
 
 My mind for a considerable time labored with mj- pur- 
 pose. Man}' difficulties interposed. I would infinitel}' have 
 preferred entering that narrow house which is appointed 
 for all living ; but this I was not permitted to do ; and I 
 conceived to quit England and to retire to America was 
 the next thing to be desired. Nights and days of deliber- 
 ation at length convinced my judgment, and I was deter- 
 mined to depart for the New World. My few friends urged 
 me most earnestly to let them apply to those who had con- 
 iTections in America, for letters of introduction or recom- 
 mendation. No, by no means ; this would most effectually 
 dc:eat my purpose. I would rather not go than go thus. 
 My object was to close my life in solitude, in the most 
 complete retirement ; and with those views I commenced 
 ))reparations for my voyage. I visited the brother of my 
 departed wife, and I beheld both him and his children, with- 
 
188 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the same e^^es a dying person would have beheld them. 
 Tears frequently stole down my face, and a thousand 
 thoughts that served to harrow up my soul crowded upon 
 me. I was determined not to repeat this scene, and I bade 
 them adieu. Could I have done this upon a bed of death, 
 how much happier should I have been ! 
 
 The place I now occupied, to which I had recently re- 
 moved, was extremely beautiful ; it was in the vicinity of 
 London. I had a fine garden and a delightful prospect. 
 But my better self had fled this globe, and with her fled 
 m}^ soul's calm sunshine^ every heart-felt joy. I was, as I 
 have frequently said, extremely wretched. I spake to the 
 master of a vessel bound to New York. I agreed for my 
 passage. My heart trembled ; it was worse than death. 
 He fixed the time for my departure ; every arrangement 
 was made. M}' brother, my widowed mother, — I met them 
 in m}^ parlor ; it was torturing. '' Sit down, my son," 
 said my weeping parent. My brother appeared a silent 
 spectacle of sorrow. " I know 3'ou, my child, too well to 
 expect I can alter your resolution. It is now too late to 
 beseech you to reflect. I know 3^ou have long reflected, 
 and I am astonished to find you still determined. You 
 have a charming situation. Your prospects are good ; 
 could 3'ou but make 3'our mind eas3', 3'ou might still be 
 happy. Wlw, then, this aversion to life?" I interrupted 
 her b3' declaring that the whole world would not, could 
 not, detain me longer in England ; 3'et I passionatel3' 
 loved m3^ countr3^, and my few remaining friends shared 
 the best aff'ections of m3^ heart. This voluntary exile was 
 worse than death ; but I was impelled to go, and go I 
 must. M3^ poor mother threw her fond arms about my 
 ■neck. "Once more," said she, "3'ou leave me, but not 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 189 
 
 now as before. Then you left me in m}' native place among 
 my natural connexions ; then, too, I had hope you would 
 again be restored to me ; but now — " auvd she burst into 
 tears. M}' heart was agonized. I entreated her to con- 
 sider me as on the bed of death, nor again to think of me 
 as of a living son. ^' Be thankful, my mother, be thank- 
 ful it is no worse ; be thankful I have not fallen a victim 
 to the despondency of m}- spirit. I leave 3'ou with 3'our 
 children, with children kind and dutiful ; and, what is bet- 
 ter than all, I leave you in the hands and under the care 
 of a kind God, who hath said, ' I will never leave you nor 
 forsake you.'" — "But shall I hear from 3'ou, my son?" 
 — " Do not, I entreat you, think of me as living. I go to 
 bury myself in the wilds of America. No one shall hear 
 from me, nor of me. I have done with the world." And 
 prostrating m3'self in the presence of m}- mother and my 
 God, with streaming e3'es and supplicating hands I com- 
 mended my soul, and all who were connected with me or 
 allied to me, to that Being who orders all things according 
 to his own good pleasure. 
 
 I left m3^ mother in an agon3" of affliction, and retired, 
 but not to rest. M3^ baggage had been sent on board ship 
 in the morning ; and, accompanied by m3' brother, we took 
 a boat and passed down to Gravesend, where I entered 
 on board the vessel that was to conve3^ me to America, 
 which, in my then judgment, was tantamount to quitting 
 the world. 
 
 The vessel, however, did not sail immediately. I had 
 an opportunity of going on shore again, and spending 
 some time at Gravesend. Fond of being alone, I 
 ascended a lofty eminence and sat me down under the 
 • shade of a wide-spreading tree ; here I had leisure and 
 
190 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 inclination for reflection. On one hand, I beheld the wide 
 ocean, my path to the New World ; on the other, the 
 Thames, upon the silvery surface of which many were 
 passing to London. My mind rapidly ran over the vari- 
 ous scenes I had witnessed since my arrival in that great 
 city. I dwelt upon the good I had lost, never more to be 
 recovered. My soul sickened at the recollection of my 
 heav}' bereavement, of the solitary situation to which I 
 was reduced. I was going from a world in which I had 
 some associates, and some friends, into a country where 
 every individual was unknown to me. I was going on 
 board a vessel, to the crew of which I was an utter 
 stranger; all gloomy — truly gloomy. One idea, how- 
 ever, continued my abiding consolation : I might soon 
 finish my course, and bid an eternal adieu to sorrow of 
 every description. Yet I trembled at what was before me. 
 I was fearful I was wrong. 
 
 Just at this period the wind shifted, the signal was made 
 for sailing. But, before I descended the eminence, I once 
 more threw my eyes upon the surrounding scenes. I felt 
 destitute and forlorn ; tears gushed into my eyes. My 
 domestic felicity ; my social connections ; the pleasure I 
 had derived from listening to the testimony of truth, 
 — these all rushed upon my recollection with subduing 
 power. I prostrated myself upon the ground, with 
 streaming e3^es exclaiming, " O thou dear parent earth, 
 thou much-loved native soil, why not open and give me a 
 quiet resting-place in thy bosom ? O thou dear, departed 
 friend of my soul, hast thou no power to loose these 
 chains that bind me to this state of being? Is there no 
 eye to pity, no hand to help a wretched outcast? Can I 
 not be indulo:ed with death?" But death comes not at 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 191 
 
 call. In this situation I continued, bedewing the earth 
 with m}' tears, until it pleased the kind God to spealv 
 peace to my tortured heart ; and I seemed to hear a voice 
 calling unto me, "Be of good cheer, your God is with 
 you. He will never leave 3'ou nor forsake 3'ou. He is in 
 the wide waste as in the full city. Be not afraid ; when 
 thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee : fear 
 no evil ; the friend of sinners will be with thee, and make 
 thy way plain before thee. He will cause the desert to 
 blossom as the rose. The 3'oung lions crj-, and thy heav- 
 enl}' Father feedeth them. Thou art nearer and dearer to 
 thy heavenly Father than all the inhabitants of the deep, 
 than all the tenants of the forest." Thus did the spirit of 
 grace and consolation comfort my afflicted heart, so that, 
 after bidding an affectionate adieu to the scenes of the 
 morning and meridian of my daj^s ; after taking what I 
 believed an eternal leave of my native soil, of my friends 
 and relatives ; after dropping many tears to the memor}'' 
 of each ; and, last of all, to the ashes of m}' dear self; 
 with an aching head, a pained heart, and e3'es swelled b}^ 
 weeping, on Saturday evening, July twenty-first, in the 
 year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventj', 
 1 hastened on board the brig " Hand-in-hand." And, 
 upon the ensuing morning, as we passed round Beach}- 
 Head, I beheld the white cliffs of Albion. No language 
 can describe my sensations, as those white cliffs receded 
 from my view, as 1 took a last look of England. I re- 
 tired to m}^ cabin, covered my face, and wept until I was 
 corapletel}' exhausted. But God was pleased to lift up 
 the light of his countenance upon me. My vo^-age passed 
 more pleasantly than I had calculated ; and I was the 
 happy instrument of contributing to the comfort of many 
 
192 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 on board. I was not sick upon the passage. I became 
 more than reconciled to my circumstances, and I almost 
 dreaded the thought of reaching my destined port. 
 
 I did not anticipate my fate upon my arrival. I had 
 determined upon nothing, and yet I was not distressed. 
 A perfect indifference pervaded my soul. I had in my 
 trunks man}^ articles of clothing, more than I should 
 want ; for I did not calculate upon being many years an 
 inhabitant of this globe. I had some money ; I had my 
 Bible, and a very large collection of the letters of my 
 Eliza, in which I took much delight ; and, upon the whole, 
 I fancied m3^self rather rich than otherwise. In this state 
 of resignation, indifference, or insensibility, I passed the 
 greater part of the voj^age. 
 
 As we drew near the coast of America, I experienced 
 none of those delightful sensations which swelled my 
 bosom a few years before, on returning to England from 
 Ireland ; neither did I experience those terrifying appre- 
 hensions, for which there was such abundant reason, on ad- 
 vancing to an unknown country, without patron or friend. 
 M}^ mind was calm and unruffled, neither elated by hope 
 nor depressed by fear. I had obtained precisely that situa- 
 tion for which I had supplicated Heaven, when entering 
 upon this untried state of being, humbly depending upon 
 that God who was in every place the same unchanging 
 friend of the creature whom he had made. I was, as it 
 were, between two worlds. One I had tried, and, finding it 
 contained more of bitter than of sweet, I had turned from 
 it with disgust. I advanced toward the other, without high- 
 raised expectations, without fearful apprehensions. I was 
 pleased with the wonders of my God, as I beheld them in 
 the great deep. I was amazed at the variet}' of its inhabi- 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 193 
 
 tants ; yet how small a part could I trace ! I was astonished 
 at the number of birds flitting over the ocean ; and I 
 thought if provision was made for them I had no reason 
 for fear. On a brilliant moonlight evening our ship struck 
 on something, which threw us off our seats ! What could 
 it be? We were in the centre of the Western Ocean. We 
 soon discovered it was a sleeping whale. We also beheld 
 the water-spout, so often described as a surprising phe- 
 nomenon. Thus was my wondering mind beguiled of its 
 sorrows. We saw a number of vessels on our way, some 
 passing to the country we had left. My heart sighed as 
 they pursued their course, and I frequently and audibly 
 exclaimed, " Dear native countr}-, never more to be seen by 
 me ! " nor was the exclamation unaccompanied by a tear. 
 
 We were, as it was supposed, within three daj's of New 
 York, when we met a vessel bound for England. Ourmer 
 chant questioned the captain, respecting the state of public 
 affairs in America. The Americans had, some time be- 
 fore, entered into the non-importation agreement, and our 
 merchant was anxious, on account of the goods he had on 
 board. The captain assured him they had given up the 
 agreement in Philadelphia, but that they zealously adhered 
 to it in New York. Our captain, therefore, received im- 
 mediate orders to change the course of the vessel for Phila- 
 delphia ; but when we had got near enough to this harbor 
 to take a pilot, the pilot informed us, the reverse of the in- 
 formation we had received was the truth ; upon which the 
 merchant determined to go as far as the city, there obtain 
 a certainty, and, if so, to proceed to New York with all 
 possible despatch. We were a considerable time passing 
 up the Delaware, and, upon a fine day, while we lay at 
 
 13 
 
194 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 anchor, the merchant proposed going on shore, for the pur- 
 pose of obtaining corn and fruit. 
 
 It was in the month of September when we arrived in 
 the Delaware. The country upon the banks of this fine 
 river exhibited a most enchanting appearance, especially 
 to those who had been for many weeks out of sight of land, 
 and had never seen those shores before. As we drew near 
 the land, the woods, seeming to grow out of the water, had 
 to me a very uncommon appearance ; but everything in this 
 country was uncommon. We went on shore, and ascend- 
 ed a gentle acclivity, when, entering into a small log- 
 house, I was astonished to see a woman preparing some ex- 
 cellent wild ducks for dinner. Live in a log-house, and 
 feed upon ducks ! We passed into her garden, where, 
 amid its rich variety, my attention was arrested by a 
 large peach-tree, loaded with the best fruit, bending to 
 the earth ! I was beyond expression charmed and de- 
 lighted, and my heart beat with grateful affection to the 
 universal Parent, for giving the inhabitants of this New 
 World thus liberally to enjoy. When we reached Philadel- 
 phia, I was amazed to behold a city of such magnitude, in 
 a country which I had considered as a wilderness. The 
 captain supposed it a disappointment to me that we had 
 not put into New York, as that was the place of my desti- 
 nation. I requested him to make himself easy, as it was a 
 matter of perfect indifference to me upon what part of the 
 country I landed ; and, if he could procure me a private 
 lodging, I would go on shore in this city. This he told me 
 he would do ; but this he could not do, at least in the circle 
 of his connections. He then proposed my going by land to 
 New York. This^also I was willing to do, if he would let 
 me know how. He would send and take me a place in the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 195 
 
 stage. The stage bad been gone some time. He then pro- 
 posed I should tarry in the vessel and set out with him the 
 next morning to New York ; to which arrangement I agreed. 
 The other passengers left us in Philadelphia. The water was 
 smooth, and our passage pleasant, until we were, as was 
 supposed, near Sandy Hook ; a dense fog then arose, which 
 was sufficiently thick to prevent our seeing the end of our 
 bowsprit. A sloop shot past us, and we inquired how far we 
 were from Sandy Hook. The answer was seventy miles, but 
 we understood seven, and we passed on, and in a few moments 
 were in the midst of the breakers ; the vessel struck upon 
 the bar, but passed over, into a place we afterwards learned 
 was called Cranberry Inlet. The fog now dispersed, and 
 we discovered we were nearly on shore ; our anchors, how- 
 ever, saved us ; but we were greatly alarmed, and never ex- 
 pected to get off again. The sloop with which we had 
 spoken entered this inlet before us, and was light. The 
 captain proposed to engage this sloop to receive on board 
 as much of our cargo as she could contain ; thus by light- 
 ening his vessel to give himself the only probable chance 
 of getting off. This was effectuated, and night coming on 
 the captain, with man}- apologies, requested me to lodge on 
 board the sloop, inasmuch as there were many valuable 
 articles, which he was afraid to trust without a confidential 
 person. To this I readily consented, and, taking my Bible 
 and my purse, I went on board the sloop. The plan of the 
 captain was, supposing the morning should present do pros- 
 pect of getting off, to deposit the remainder of his cargo 
 upon the beach; but, if they should get off, we were im- 
 mediately to follow ; the goods were to be replaced ; and 
 the sloop dismissed. I went not to bed, and when the 
 morning dawned, just at high water, the wind blowing from 
 
196 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the shore, they got off, making a signal for us to follow ; 
 and with all possible despatch we prepared to obey ; but the 
 wind instantly shifting drove us back, and ih^y proceeded 
 on to New York, leaving us in the bay. 
 
 It proved, upon examination, we had no provisions on 
 board ; we were therefore necessitated to lock up the vessel, 
 and go on shore in search of sustenance. It was the after 
 part of the da}' before we could effectuate our purpose, when 
 I went with the boatmen to a tavern, and, leaving them 
 there, pursued a solitarj^ walk through the woods, which 
 seemed to surround this place. My mind was greatly 
 agitated. I was now in the New World ; and in just such 
 a part of this New "World as had appeared so desirable in 
 prospect. Here I was as much alone as I could wish, and 
 my heart exclaimed, '* Oil that I had in this wilderness the 
 lodging-place of a poor wayfaring man; some cave^ some 
 grot^ some place where I might finish my days in calm 
 repose ! " 
 
 As thus I passed along, thus contemplating, thus sup- 
 plicating, I unexpectedly reached a small log-house, and 
 saw a girl cleaning a fresh fish. I requested she would sell 
 it to me. " No, sir, you will find a very great plenty at the 
 next house; we want this." —"The next house, what, this?" 
 pointing to one in the woods. " Oh, no, sir, that is ameet- 
 insc-house." * A meetino^-house here in these woods? 
 I was exceedingly surprised. " You must pass the meet- 
 ing-house, sir ; and a little way farther on you will see the 
 other house, where j^ou will find fish enough." I went for- 
 ward. I came to the door ; there was indeed a large pile 
 of fish of various sorts, and at a little distance stood a tall 
 man, rough in appearance, and evidently advanced in years* 
 
 * Potter Meeting-house. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 197 
 
 " Pray, sir, will j^ou have the goodness to sell me one of 
 those fish?" — " No, sir." — " That is strange, when you 
 have so many, to refuse me a single fish ! " — *' I did not 
 refuse you a fish, sir. You are welcome to as many as 
 you please ; but I do not sell this article. I do not sell fish, 
 sir. I have them for taking up, and you may obtain them 
 the same way." I thanked him. ''But," said he, "what 
 do 3'ou want of those fish?" I informed him that the 
 mariners, who belonged to the sloop at a distance, were at 
 a tavern, and would be glad if I could procure them some- 
 thing for supper. "Well, sir, I will send my man over 
 with the fish ; but you can tarry here, and have some 
 dressed for yourself." — " No, sir, it is proper I should see 
 how they are accommodated." — " Well, sir, j^ou shall do 
 as 3'ou please ; but, after supper, I heg jom would return, 
 and take a bed with us ; you will be better pleased here 
 than at a tavern." I gratefulh^ thanked him, and cheerfully 
 accepted his offer. I was astonished to see so much 
 genuine politeness and urbanit}^ under so rough a form ; 
 but my astonishment was greatly increased on my return. 
 His room was prepared, his fire bright, and his heart open, 
 " Come,", said he, " my friend, I am glad 3'ou have returned. 
 I have longed to see \'ou ; I have been expecting you a long 
 time." I was perfectly amazed. " What do 3'ou mean, 
 sir?" — " I must go on in m3^ own wa3\ I am a poor igno- 
 rant man ; I neither know how to read nor write. I was 
 born in these woods, and m3' father did not think proper 
 to teach me m3^ letters. I worked on these grounds until 
 I became a man, when I went coasting voyages from hence 
 to New York. I was then desirous of becoming a husband ; 
 but, in going to New York, I was pressed on board a man- 
 of-war, and I was taken in Admiral Warren's ship to 
 
198 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 Cape Breton. I never drank any rum, — so they saved my 
 allowance ; but I would not bear an affront, — so if any of 
 the officers struck me I struck them again ; but the admiral 
 took my part, and called me his new-light man. When we 
 reached Louisbourg I ran awa}', and travelled barefooted 
 through the country, and almost naked to New York, where 
 I was known, and supplied with clothes and mone}^, and 
 soon returned to this place, when I found ray girl married. 
 This rendered me very unhappy, but I recovered m}^ tran- 
 quillity, and married her sister. I sat down to work ; got 
 forward very fast ; constructed a saw-mill ; possessed my- 
 self of this farm, and five hundred acres of adjoining land. 
 I entered into navigation, became the owner of a sloop, 
 and have got together a large estate. I am, as I said, un- 
 able either to write or read, but I am capable of reflection. 
 The sacred Scriptures have been often read to me, from 
 which I gather that there is a great and good Being, to 
 whom we are indebted for all we enjo\\ It is this great 
 and good Being, who hath preserved and protected me 
 through innumerable dangers ; and, as he had given me a 
 house of ni}' own, I conceived I could not do less than to 
 open it to the stranger, let him be who he would ; and 
 especiall}^, if a travelling minister passed this wa}-, he 
 alwa^'s received an invitation to put up at m}' house, and 
 hold his meetings here. I continued this practice for more 
 than seven j^ears, and, illiterate as I was, I used to con- 
 verse with them, and was fond of asking them questions. 
 They pronounced me an odd mortal, declaring themselves 
 at a loss what to make of me ; while I continued to affirm, 
 that I had but one hope : I believed that Jesus Christ 
 suffered death for my transgressions, and this alone was 
 sufficient for me. At length m}^ wife grew weary of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 199 
 
 ha^ing meetings held in her house, and I determined to 
 build a house for the worship of God. 
 
 " I had no children, and I knew I was beholden to Almighty- 
 God for ever^'thing which I possessed ; and it seemed right 
 I should appropriate a part of what he had bestowed, for 
 his service. My neighbors offered their assistance. But 
 ' No,' said I ; ' God has given me enough to do this work 
 without 3'our aid, and, as he has put it into my heart to do, 
 so will I do.' — ' And who,' it was asked, ' will be your 
 preacher?' I answered, 'God will send me a preacher, 
 and of a ver}- different stamp from those who have hereto- 
 fore preached in my house. The preachers we have heard 
 are perpetually contradicting themselves ; but that God, 
 who has put it into m}^ heart to build this house, will send 
 one who shall deliver unto me his own truth, — who shall 
 speak of Jesus Christ and his salvation.' When the house 
 was finished, I received an application from the Baptists ; 
 and I told them, if they could make it appear that God 
 Almightj" was a Baptist, the building should be theirs at 
 once. The Quakers and Presbyterians received similar 
 answers. ' No,' said I, ' as I firmly believe that all man- 
 kind are equall}^ dear to Almighty God, the}" shall all be 
 equally welcome to preach in this house which I have built.' 
 My neighbors assured me I never should seje a preacher 
 whose sentiments corresponded with my own ; but my 
 uniform repl}" was, that I assuredly should. I engaged the 
 first 3'ear with a man whom I greatly disliked. We parted, 
 and for some years we have had no stated minister. My 
 friends often ask me, ' Where is the preacher of whom you 
 spake?' And my constant repl}" has been, 'He will by 
 and by make his appearance.' The moment I beheld your 
 vessel on shore, it seemed as if a voice had audibly sounded 
 
200 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 in my ears, ' There, Potter, in that vessel cast away on 
 that shore, is the preacher you have been so long expect- 
 ing.' I heard the voice, and I believed the report ; and 
 when you came up to my door and asked for the fish, the 
 same voice seemed to repeat, ' Potter, this is the man, this 
 is the person, whom I have sent to preach in 3'our house ! ' " 
 
 I was astonished, immeasurably astonished, at Mr. Pot- 
 ter's narrative ; but yet I had not the smallest idea it could 
 ever be realized. I requested to know what he could discern 
 in my appearance, which could lead him to mistake me for 
 a preacher. " What," said he, " could I discern, when you 
 were in the vessel, that could induce this conclusion? No, 
 sir, it is not what I saw, or see, but what I /eeZ, which pro- 
 duces in my mind a full conviction." 
 
 " But, my dear sir, you are deceived, indeed 3^ou are 
 deceived. I never shall preach in this place nor anj^where 
 else." 
 
 "Have you never preached? Can 3'ou say you have 
 never preached ? " 
 
 " I cannot ; but I never intend to preach again." 
 
 " Has not God lifted up the light of his countenance 
 upon you? Has he not shown you his truth? " 
 
 " I trust he has." 
 
 "And haw dare you hide this truth? Do men light a 
 candle to put it under a bushel? If God has shown 3^ou 
 his salvation, why should you not show it to your fellow- 
 men ? But I know that you will. I am sure God Almight}^ 
 lias sent you to us for this purpose. I am not deceived ; I 
 am sure I am not deceived." 
 
 I was terrified as the man tims went on ; and I began to 
 fear that God, who orders all things according to the coun- 
 sel of his own will, had ordained that thus it should be. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 201 
 
 and my heart trembled at the idea. I endeavored, however, 
 to banish my own fears, and to silence the warm-hearted 
 man, by observing that I was in the place of a supercargo ; 
 that property to a large amount had been entrusted to m}' 
 care ; and that the moment the wind changed I was under 
 the most solemn obligations to depart. 
 
 "The wind will never change, sir, until you have deliv- 
 ered to us, in that meeting-house, a message from God." 
 
 Still I w^as resolutely determined never to enter any 
 pulpii as a preacher. Yet being rendered truly unhappy, I 
 begged I might be shown to my bed. He requested I would 
 pray with them, if I had no objection. I asked him how 
 he could suppose I had any objection to praying. The 
 Quakers, he said, seldom pra3^ed ; and there were others, 
 who visited him, w4io were not in the habit of pra3ing. " I 
 never propose praj-er, sir, lest it should not meet with the 
 approbation of those with whom I sojourn ; but I am 
 always pleased when prayer is proposed to me." I prayed, 
 and my heart was greatly enlarged and softened. When 
 we parted for the night, my kind host solemnly requested 
 that I would think of what he had said. Alas ! he need 
 not to have made this request ; it was impossible to banish 
 it from my mind. When I entered my chamber, and shut 
 the door, I burst into tears. I would have given the world 
 that I had never left England. I felt as if the hand of God 
 was in the events which had brought me to this place, and 
 I prayed most ardently that God would assist and direct 
 me by his counsel. I presented myself before him as a 
 man bowed down by calamit}' : a melancholy outcast, 
 driven by repeated afflictions of body and of mind to seek 
 refuge in private life ; to seek solitude amid the wilds of 
 America. "Thou knowest," said my oppressed spirit, 
 
202 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 " thou knowest, O Lord, that if it had pleased thee, I would 
 have preferred death as the safest and most sure retreat ; 
 but thou hast not seen fit to indulge my wishes in this 
 respect. In thy providence thou hast brought me into this 
 New World. Thou seest how I am oppressed by solicita- 
 tions to speak unto the people the words of life. Thou 
 knowest that I am not suflScient for these things. Thou 
 God of my fathers, thou God of the stranger, look with 
 pity upon the poor, lonely wanderer now before thee. O 
 thou that sittest in the heavens, and rulest in the earth, and 
 who assurest us that a hair of our head cannot fall unno- 
 ticed by thee ! — O thou who kindly directest us, thy poor, 
 dependent creatures, to acknowledge thee in all their ways, 
 and to make their requests known unto thee in every time 
 of affliction, behold thy poor dependant, supplicating thee 
 for thy kind direction and protection ! If thou hast indeed 
 put it into the heart of thy servant to demand of me, the 
 meanest and weakest of all to whom thou didst ever give 
 power to believe in the name of thy Son, to declare unto 
 him and the people of this place the gospel of thy grace, 
 O God ! in mercy prepare me, prepare me for so vast an 
 undertaking, and let thy presence be with me. Strengthen 
 me, O Lord, by thy mighty Spirit. And if it be not thy 
 pleasure thus to emploj^ me, — for thou, O God, wilt send 
 b}^ whom thou wilt send, — graciously manifest th}^ will, 
 that so I may not by any means be drawn into a snare. 
 Thou art the sinner's friend ; thou art the only friend I have. 
 To thee, O thou compassionate Father of my spirit, encour- 
 aged by thy gracious promises, I make application. Pity, 
 oh, pity the destitute stranger ; leave me not, I most ear- 
 nestly entreat thee, to my own direction." 
 
 Thus did I pray, thus did I weep, through the greater 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 203- 
 
 part of the night ; dreading more than death, even suppos- 
 ing death an object of dread, the thought of engaging as a 
 public character. On the one hand, I discovered that if 
 there be a ruling Power, a superintending Providence, the 
 account given by the extraordinarj' man under whose roof 
 I reposed, evinced its operation ; that, if the heart of the 
 creature be indeed in the hand of the Creator, it was mani- 
 fest that God had disposed the heart of this man to view 
 me as his messenger, sent for the purpose of declaring the 
 counsel of his peace to his creatures. On the other 
 hand, I recollected that the heart is deceitful above all 
 things ; that the devices of the adversar}^ are manifold ; and 
 that, had it been the will of God that I should have become 
 a promulgator of the gospel of his grace, he would have 
 qualified me for an object of such infinite magnitude. If I 
 testified of Jesus according to the Scriptures, I well knew 
 upon what 1 must calculate : the clergy of all denominations 
 would unite to oppose me. For I had never met with any 
 individual of that order, either in the Church of Rome or 
 elsewhere, who were believers of the gospel that God 
 preached unto Abraham, that in Christ Jesus all the fam- 
 lies of the earth should be blessed ; nor did the}', as far as I 
 had known, embrace the ministry of reconciliation com- 
 mitted unto the apostles, namely, that '' God was in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing unto them 
 their trespasses ;" nor did they acknowledge the restitution 
 of all things, testified by all God's holy prophets ever since 
 the world began. To these doctrines I supposed clergymen 
 in this, as well as in the country I had left, united in their 
 opposition ; and, convinced that there were no enemies in 
 the world more powerful than the clergy, I trembled at the 
 thought of stemming the full tide of their displeasure. I 
 
204 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 was persuaded that people in general, being under the 
 dominion of the clergy, would hate where they hated, and 
 report what they reported. Acquainted in some measure 
 with human nature and with divine revelation, I was cer- 
 tain that if I appeared in the character of a real disciple of 
 Christ Jesus, — if I dared to declare the whole truth of God, 
 — all manner of evil would be said of me ; and, although it 
 might be falsely said, while the inventor of the slander 
 would be conscious of its falseJiood, the majority of those 
 who heard would yield it credit, and I should become the 
 victim of their credulit3\ 
 
 I knew how Mr. Relly had suffered in England, and the 
 apostles in Judea ; and, being a believer in the testimony 
 of God, I was assured if my doctrines were the same, my 
 treatment would be similar. All this rose to my view, and 
 the prospect was tremendous. Thus I passed the night, 
 and the ensuing morning witnessed my indisposition both 
 of body and mind. My good friend renewed his solicita- 
 tions. " Will you, sir, speak to me and to my neighbors 
 •of the things which belong to our peace?" Seeing only 
 thick woods, the tavern across the field excepted, I re- 
 quested to know what he meant by neighbors. " O sir, 
 we assemble a large congregation whenever the meeting- 
 house is opened ; indeed, when my father first settled here, 
 he was obliged to go twenty miles. to grind a bushel of 
 corn ; but there are now more than seven hundred inhabi- 
 tants within that distance." I was amazed ; indeed, every- 
 thing I saw and everj^thing I heard amazed me. Nothing, 
 except the religion of the people, resembled what I had 
 left behind. 
 
 My mind continued subjected to the most torturing re- 
 flections. I could not bring myself to yield to the entreaties 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 20o 
 
 of Mr. Potter, and still I urged the necessity of departing 
 the moment the wind would answer. Mr. Potter was posi- 
 tive the wind would not change until I had spoken to the 
 people. Most ardently did 1 desire to escape the importu- 
 nities of this good man. The idea of a crowd, making a 
 public exhibition of myself, was to m}" desolate, woe-worn 
 mind intolerable ; and the suspense in which I was held 
 was perfectly agonizing. I could not forbear acknowledg- 
 ing an uncommon coincidence of circumstances ; the 
 hopes and fears of this honest man, so long in operation ; 
 3'et he evinced great warmth of disposition, and was evi- 
 dently tinctured with enthusiasm ; but, after making every 
 allowance for these propensities, it could not be denied that 
 an overruling Power seemed to operate in an unusual and 
 remarkable manner. I could not forbear looking back upon 
 the mistakes made during our passage, even to the coming 
 in to this particular inlet, where no vessel of the size of the 
 brig " Hand-in-hand,'* had ever before entered ; every cir- 
 cumstance contributed to bring me to this house. Mr. 
 potter's address on seeing me, his assurance that he knew 
 I was on board the vessel when he saw her at a distance, 
 — all these considerations pressed with powerful conviction 
 on my mind, and I was ready to say. If God Almighty 
 has, in his providence, so ordered events as to bring me 
 into this countr}^ for the purpose of making manifest the 
 savor of his name, and of bringing many to the knowledge 
 of the truth ; though I would infinitely prefer death to 
 entering into a character which will subject me to what is 
 infinitely worse than death ; yet, as the issues of life and 
 death are not under my direction, am I not bound to submit 
 to the dispensations of Providence? I wished, however, to 
 be convinced that it was the will of God that I should 
 
206 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 step forth in a character which would be considered as 
 obnoxious, as truly detestable. I was fully convinced it 
 was not by the will of the flesh, nor by the will of the 
 world, nor b^^ the will of the god of this world ; all these 
 were strongly opposed thereto. One moment, I felt m}- 
 resolution give way ; the path pointed out seemed to 
 brighten upon me ; but the next, the difficulties from within 
 and without obscured the prospect, and I relapsed into a 
 firm resolution to shelter myself in solitude from the 
 hopes, and fears, and the various contentions of men. 
 
 While I thus balanced, the Sabbath advanced. I had 
 ventured to implore the God who had sometimes conde- 
 scended to indulge individuals with tokens of his approba- 
 tion, graciously to indulge me, upon this important 
 occasion ; and that, if it were his will, I should obtain the 
 desire of my soul, by passing through life in a private 
 character. If it were not his will that I should engage as 
 a preacher of the ministry of reconciliation, he would 
 vouchsafe to grant me such a wind as might bear me from 
 this shore before the return of another Sabbath. I deter- 
 mined to take the changing of the wind for an answer ; and, 
 had the wind changed, it would have borne on its wings full 
 conviction, because it would have corresponded with my 
 wishes. But the wind changed not, and Saturda}^ morning 
 arrived. " Well," said ni}^ anxious friend, " now let me give 
 notice to my neighbors." — " No, sir, not yet ; should the 
 wind change in the middle of the afternoon I must depart." 
 No tongue can tell, nor heart conceive, how much I suffered 
 this afternoon ; but the evening came on, and it was neces- 
 sary I should determine ; and at last, with much fear and 
 trembling, I yielded a reluctant consent. Mr. Potter then 
 immediately despatched his servants, on horseback, to spread 
 
i 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUBRAT. 207 
 
 the intelligence far and wide, and they were to continue 
 their information until ten in the evening. 
 
 I had no rest through the night. What should I sa}', or 
 how address the people? Yet I recollected the admonition 
 of our Lord : " Take no thought what you shall say ; it 
 shall be given you, in that same hour, what you shall say." 
 Ay, but this promise was made to his disciples. Well, by 
 this, I shall know if I am a disciple. If God, in his provi- 
 dence, is committing to me a dispensation of the gospel, he 
 will furnish me with matter, without ray thought or care. 
 If this thing be not of God, he will desert me, and this shall 
 be another sign ; on this, then, I rested. Sunday morning 
 succeeded; my host was in transports. I was — I cannot 
 describe how I was. I entered the house ; it was neat and 
 convenient, expressive of the character of the builder. 
 There were no pews ; the pulpit was rather in the Quaker 
 mode ; the seats were constructed with backs, room}^, and 
 even elegant. I said there were no pews ; there was one 
 large square pew, just before the pulpit ; in this sat the ven- 
 erable man and his family, particular friends, and visiting 
 strangers. In this pew sat, upon this occasion, this happy 
 man, and, surely, no man upon this side of heaven was ever 
 more completely happy. He looked up to the pulpit with 
 eyes sparkling with pleasure ; it appeared to him, as the 
 fulfilment of a promise long deferred ; and he reflected, with 
 abundant consolation, on the strong faith which he had 
 cherished, while his associates would tauntingly question, 
 " Well, Potter, where is this minister who is to be sent to 
 you ? " — *' He is coming along in God's own good time." — • 
 *' And do you still believe any such preacher will visit 
 you ? " — " Oh, yes, assuredl3\" He reflected upon all this, 
 and tears of transport filled his eyes ; he looked round upon 
 
208 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the people, and every feature seemed to say, ''There, what 
 think you now? " When I returned to his house, he caught 
 me in his arms.* '^ Now, now, I am willing to depart. O ray 
 God I I will praise thee ; thou hast granted me my desire. 
 After this truth I have been seeking, but I have never found 
 it until now. I knew that God, who put it into my heart 
 to build a house for his worship, would send a servant of 
 his own to proclaim his own gospel. I knew he would ; I 
 knew the time was come, when I saw the vessel grounded ; 
 I knew you were the man, when I saw j^ou approach my 
 door, and my heart leaped for J03'." Visitors poured into 
 the house ; he took each by the hand. " This is the hap- 
 piest day of my life," said the transported man. "There, 
 neighbors, there is the minister God promised to send me. 
 How do 3'ou like God's minister? " I ran from the compan}^, 
 and, prostrating myself before the throne of grace, besought 
 my God to take me, and do with me whatever he pleased. 
 " I am," said I, " I am, O Lord God, in thine hand, as clay 
 in the hand of the potter. If thou, in thy providence, hast 
 brought me into this New AYorld to make known unto this 
 people the grace and the blessings of the new covenant ; if 
 thou hast thought proper, b}^ making choice of so weak an 
 instrument, to confound the wise ; if thou hast been pleased 
 to show to a babe, possessing neither wisdom nor prudence, 
 what thou hast hid from the wise and prudent, — be it so, 
 O Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight. But,,0 my 
 merciful God ! leave me not, I beseech thee, for a single 
 moment ; for without thee I can do nothing. Oh, make thy 
 strength perfect in my weakness, that the world may see 
 that thine is the power, and that, therefore, thine ought to 
 be the glory." Thus my heart prayed, while supplicating 
 tears bedewed m}" face. 
 
LIFE OF nEV. JOHN MURRAY, 209 
 
 I felt, however, relieved and tranquillized, for I had 
 power given me to trust in the Lord, to stay upon the God 
 of my salvation. Immediately upon m}' return to the 
 company, my boatmen entered the house. '• The wind is 
 fair, sir." — '' "VVell, then, we will depart. It is late in the 
 afternoon, but, no matter, I will embark directly. I have 
 been determined to embrace the first opportunity, well 
 knowing the suspense the captain must be in and the 
 pain attendant thereon." Accordingl}^, as soon as matters 
 could be adjusted, I set off; but not till my old friend, 
 taking me b}^ the hand, said, " You are now going to New 
 York. I am afraid you will, when there, forget the man 
 to whom your Master sent j'ou. But, I do beseech you, 
 come back to me again as soon as possible." 
 
 The tears gushed into his e^'es, and, regarding me with 
 a look indicative of the strongest affection, he threw his 
 arms around me, repeating his importunities that I would 
 not unnecessarily delay m}' return. I was greatl}^ affected, 
 reiterating the strongest assurances that I would conform 
 to his wishes. " Wh}^ should I not?" said I. '• What is 
 there to prevent me? I do not know an individual in New 
 York. No one knows me. What should induce me to 
 tarry there?" — ''Ah, m}' friend," said he, " 3'ou will find 
 many in New York who will love and admire 3'ou, and 
 they will wish to detain 3'ou in that city. But 3'ou have 
 promised 3'ou will return, and I am sure 3'OU will perform 
 3'our promise. And in the mean time ma3^ the God of 
 heaven be with you." Unable to reply, I hurried from his 
 door ; and, on entering the vessel, I found the good old 
 man had generously attended to what had made no part 
 of m3' care, b3' making ample provision both for me and 
 the boatmen during our little voyage. 
 14 
 
210 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 I retired to the cabin. I had leisure for serious reflec- 
 tions, and serious reflections crowded upon rae. I was 
 astonished, I was lost in wonder, in love, and praise. I 
 saw, as evidently as I could see any object visibly ex- 
 hibited before me, that the good hand of God was in all 
 these things. "It is," I spontaneouslj' exclaimed, "it is 
 the Lord's doings, and it is marvellous in my eyes." It 
 appeared to me that I could trace the hand of God in 
 bringing me through a long chain of events, to such a 
 place, to such a person, so evidently prepared for my re- 
 ception. And, w^hile I acknowledged the will of God 
 manifested respecting my public character, I at the same 
 moment distinguished the kindness of God evinced by his 
 indulging me with a retirement so exactly suited to my 
 wishes. The house was neat, the situation enchanting ; it 
 was on the margin of the deep, on the side of an extensive 
 ba}', which abounded with fish of every description, and a 
 great variety of water-fowd. On the other side of this 
 dwelling, after passing over a few fields (which at that 
 time stood thick with corn), venerable woods, that seemed 
 the coevals of time, presented a " scene for contemplation 
 fit, towering, majestic, and filling the devotional mind with 
 a religious awe." I reflected, therefore, with augmenting 
 gratitude to my heavenly Father upon the pressing invita- 
 tion he had put into the heart of his faithful servant to 
 give me. And I determined to hasten back to this de- 
 lightful retreat, where nothing but the grandeur of simple 
 nature exhibited in the surrounding objects, and the gen- 
 uine operations of the divine Spirit on the heart of the 
 hospitable master, awaited my approach.* 
 
 ♦"Cranberry Inlet," says Rev. A. C. Thomas, in an account of a visit to 
 Good Luck, " was situated about sixty miles east of Philadelphia. I say wa% 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 211 
 
 I had not the least idea of tarrying in New York a 
 moment longer than to see the captain, deliver up my 
 charge, and receive my baggage ; and I resolved to return 
 by the first opportunit}^ to my benevolent friend. And 
 thus did I make up m}^ mind : " Well, if it be so, I am 
 grateful to God that the business is thus adjusted. If I 
 must be a promulgator of these glad, these vast, 3'et ob- 
 noxious tidings, I shall, however, be sheltered in the 
 bosom of friendship, in the bosom of retirement. I will 
 •omploy mj^self on the grounds of my friend, thus earning 
 
 — for it was entirely filled up with sand many years ago, and the beach is now 
 as high at that place as at any other in the vicinity, though not so wide. 
 
 " I visited the house in Avhich Potter lived and died. It is situated less than 
 half a mile east of Good Luck. An addition has been built to it, and the ap- 
 pearance of the whole exterior is changed; but the interior remains as it was 
 in the days of Potter. It is a plain, substantial building. I have been invited 
 to make it my home when next I visit the neighborhood. 
 
 '• The meeting-house stands in the edge of a beautiful wood. The exterior 
 presents an aged appearance ; but the interior, constructed of the best cedar, 
 manifests no signs of decay. The ' large square pew ' (of which Murray 
 speaks), long occupied by Potter and his family, was removed about a year ago, 
 and plain benclies substituted. The pulpit has been somewhat cut down at 
 either end. In other respects the building remains in its original state. It was 
 left by will to John Murray, for the use of all denominations. By the mis- 
 management of the executor, it became necessary to sell a part of the estate to 
 pay certain demands against it, — of the injustice of which, however, the heirs 
 •entertained no doubt. In disposing of the property contiguous to Good Luck, 
 no reservation of the meeting-house was made in the deed. It was subse- 
 quently purchased by the Methodist society, who have it now in possession. 
 Should they hereafter evince an exclusive spirit in relation to its occupancy, 
 their title may justly be called in question. 
 
 " Thomas Potter died nearly forty years ago. His grave, at the east end of 
 the meeting hou«e, was pointed out to me by one of the oldest inhabitants in 
 the neighborhood. Owing to inattention 'and the sandy nature of the soil, it 
 was long ago levelled with the ailjacent ground. It was enclosed soon after his 
 burial ; but the fence was broken down some twenty years ago, and two posts 
 and a rail, very much decayed, are all that remain. The oak of which Murray 
 speaks (' Sketches,' vol. i. p. 336) no longer exists. I have obtained permission 
 sto re-enclose the grave, and erect a tombstone to his memory." — T. W. 
 
212 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 my own support, and health will be a concomitant ; while 
 I will preach the glad tidings of salvation free as the 
 light of heaven." The business thus arranged, I became 
 reconciled to the will of the Almighty ; and I commenced, 
 with tolerable composure, another and very important 
 stage of my various life.* 
 
 * Through the kind efforts of Rev. Richard Eddy, of Franklin, Mass., we are 
 enabled to state that the date of Murray's first sermon in the Potter Church and 
 therefore in America, was Sunday, September 30, 1770.— G. L. D. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BECORD CONTINUED FROM THE SEPTEMBER OF 1770 TO THE 
 WINTER OF 1774. 
 
 *' Armed with the sword of Jesse's youthful son, 
 Engaged with ardor in the freedom won 
 By Christ, the anointed God of earth and heaven, 
 Dare, nobly, Murray, tell the boon that's given." 
 
 Motto by a Friend. 
 
 Behold me now entering upon a new stage of the 
 journe}- of life, a professed preactier of the gospel. Of 
 my inability for an undertaking so vast, I retained a con- 
 tinued and depressing sense. But I determined to be as 
 consistent and as useful as possible. I would be an 
 assistant to my new friend in his agricultural and fishing 
 employments ; and, upon every returning Sunday, I would 
 preach to him the truth as it is in Jesus. I had not the 
 most remote idea of ever preaching anywhere but in the 
 house which he had built ; and thus I should questionless 
 be indulged with the retirement which had been the prime 
 object of mj" vo3'age. Thus consolatory were my reflec- 
 tions upon my passage to New York, — at which place I 
 arrived about noon upon the ensuing day. I inquired for 
 the captain, delivered up my charge, took my baggage 
 from the brig " Hand-in-hand," and secured a lodging 
 until I could obtain a passage back to the hospitable man- 
 sion I had left. But the day had not closed in before a 
 number of persons visited me, earnestly soliciting me to 
 
 213 
 
214 LIFE OF REV. JOnX MURRAY. 
 
 speak to them of the things of the kingdom I was im- 
 measurabl}^ astonished ; totalh' a stranger in the city I 
 could scarcely believe I was not in a dream. The boat- 
 men, however, having given an account of me on their 
 arrival, the intelligence was wafted from one end of the 
 city unto the other. And the people, being anxious to 
 hear something new, and from a new preacher, became 
 extremely importunate. I could not deny that I had 
 preached ; but I gave the solicitors to understand that I 
 had absolutel}^ engaged to return by the first opportunity^, 
 and that, of course, I was not at libert}" to comply with 
 their request. The}^ promised the}^ would insure me a 
 speedy and eligible conve3'ance, if I would consent to give 
 them a discourse in the Baptist meeting-house ; and it be- 
 came impossible to resist their persuasions. The house 
 was thronged, and the hearers so well satisfied, as to 
 solicit most earnestly my continuance among them. But 
 this I was not disposed to do. This I could not do. My 
 M'ord, my honor, was engaged to v[\y first American friend ; 
 and, when duty is seconded by inclination, perseverance 
 becomes a matter of course. Upwards of a week elapsed 
 before the earnestl}' soiight-for passage presented, during 
 which period I frequently preached, and to crowded 
 houses. I was gratified b}' the marked attention of many 
 characters. Novelt}^ is rarely destitute of attraction. 
 Even the minister extended to me the hand of apparent 
 friendship, which I accounted for upon a supposition that 
 he was ignorant of m}^ testimon3^ I made use of the 
 same Scriptures which he made use of; and he was not 
 apprised that I yielded them unqualified credence. I had 
 no doubt that so soon as he should be informed that I 
 believed what I delivered, he would condemn as much as 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUIiRAY. 215 
 
 lie now appeared to approve. Yet some few there were, 
 firm, unchanging friends, whose attachment to me and my 
 testimony has to this moment continued unbroken. So 
 soon as an opportunity to return presented, I verj^ cheer- 
 fully embraced it ; and I felt m^' heart bound with pleas- 
 ure at the- thought of that meeting which a few daj's be- 
 fore I would have died to avoid. The charming retreat, 
 in the gift of m^^ friend, was, in my estimation, highly 
 preferable to New York, and all which it could bestow ; 
 and I longed most earnestly to quit the one and to return 
 to the other. A number of friends accompanied me to the 
 ^^essel, and we parted with expressions of regret. A 
 single da}' produced me again in the abode of genuine, 
 Christian friendship, to which I was welcomed with every 
 demonstration of heart- felt joy. 
 
 Here, then, I cousidered I had found a permanent home ; 
 that a final period was at length put to my wanderings ; 
 and, after all m}' apprehensive dread, from being drawn 
 into the public character, now that I had a prospect of 
 sustaining this public character in so private a manner, I 
 was not only reconciled, but tranquillized and happ3^ I had 
 leisure to retrospect my past life, and I was filled with aston- 
 ishment when I beheld all the various paths which I had 
 trod, ultimately leading me to a uniform contemplation of 
 redeeming love ; nor could I forbear exclaiming, " Great and 
 marvellous are thy works. Lord God Almight}' ! Just and 
 true are tln^ ways, O thou King of saints ! " 
 
 The winter now approached, and with hasty strides ; my 
 worthy friend was diligently gathering in the fruits of the 
 earth. I was disposed to aid him, to the utmost of my 
 abilities. He could not bear the thought of my laboring in 
 the field. "Why need you? Have 3'ou not enough to 
 
216 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 engage your attention, in the business on which you are 
 sent?" — " Believe me, my friend, my employment in your 
 field will not interrupt my reflections. I can study better 
 in the field than in my chamber. It requires but little 
 study to deliver simple, plain, gospel truth ; to pervert this 
 truth requires a vast deal of worldly wisdom. Let me, my 
 dear sir, do as I please. I have fixed upon a plan, with 
 which you shall be acquainted, when the labors of the daj^ 
 are closed." In the evening, when the cheerful fire blazed 
 upon the health, and we were seated in the well-lighted 
 parlor, " Come," said the good man, " now for your 
 plan." — " I think, m^^ dear sir," said I, " I am at length 
 convinced that God in his providence has thought proper 
 to appoint me, however unworthy, to the ministry of the 
 New Testament ; and while persuaded that our common 
 Father has committed a dispensation of the gospel to me, 
 and that a woe is pronounced against me if I preach it not, 
 it will be impossible I should remain silent ; but knowing, 
 as I do, something of the nature of man, and of the situa- 
 tion of preachers in general, I am for myself determined 
 not to make a gain of godliness ; I will make no provision 
 for myself. I have abundance of clothing, and as to food 
 I will eat of whatever is set before me, asking no questions 
 either for the sake of conscience or appetite ; and for m}' 
 drink, nothing is so salutary- for me as cold water. I am 
 persuaded I shall not live long in this world ; at least I 
 hope I shall not. I am alone in the world. I shall 
 want but little here, ' nor want that little long.' I 
 reject then, with m}^ whole soul, I reject, the liberal 
 offer you so recently made me, of a fixed stipend. 
 I will have no salary, I will have no collections, I will 
 preach the gospel freely. I will work in your fields, I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 217 
 
 will eat at 3'our table, I will slake m}- thirst at the limpid 
 stream which furnishes \o\\y family ; but you shall make no 
 change in the order of your house on my account. I will 
 associate with your associates. I expect to meet them at 
 the table of m}' great Lord and Master in mansions be^^ond 
 the grave ; and shall I hesitate to meet them upon equal 
 terms in this lower world? I am pleased with 3'our situa- 
 tion ; with 3'our house of worship ; with 3'our neighbors ; 
 with ever3'thing I am pleased. And if that God who 
 brought me hither will graciousl3' vouchsafe to indulge me 
 with the privilege of tanying here until I am liberated 
 from this bod3^ of sin and death, I shall be still better 
 pleased." 
 
 The good old man could no longer suppress his feelings. 
 He arose from his seat, caught me in his arms, essa3'ed to 
 speak, paused, and at length exclaimed, " O ray God, is it 
 possible? Wh3", such I have thought ministers of Jesus 
 Christ ought to be." — '' But, m3' friend," I replied, " ever3^ 
 minister of Jesus Christ cannot live as I can. I have no 
 famil3', no home, no want. If I had a famih', I should be 
 worse than an infidel not to make provisions for my house- 
 hold ; but God, b3^ separating me from m3' beloved compan- 
 ion and my cherub bo3^ has enabled me to preach the 
 gospel freety." I never saw an3' man so delighted, and 
 especially with my determination to continue with him. 
 Dear, kind-hearted man ! both he and I then believed that 
 death onl3^ could separate us. In a place so remote from 
 the world, I imagined I should enjoy, uninterruptedl3^ ever3' 
 wish of m3' heart ; and again and again I felicitated m3'self in 
 the prospect of finishing m3' wear3' life in this sweet, this 
 calm retreat, unincumbered b3' care, conferring as well as 
 receiving benefits, nobl3' independent, possessing all which 
 
218 LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the treacherous world could now bestow. Thus I went on, 
 — pleased and pleasing. I had leisure for converse with 
 myself, with 1113^ Bible, and my God. The letters of my 
 Eliza were a source of mournfully pensive consolation, — 
 the}' were multiplied, — and I had carefully preserved them. 
 ;^[any a time have I shed over them the private, the mid- 
 night tear ; and reading them thus late, when I had fallen 
 into a sweet slumber, I have met the lovely author in my 
 dreams, and our meeting has been replete with consolation, 
 with such high intercourse as can oxAy be realized in 
 heaven. Our Sundays were indeed blessed holy days ; 
 people began to throng from all quarters on horseback, — 
 some from the distance of twenty miles. I was at first 
 pleased with this ; so was my patron ; but multiplied invi- 
 tations to visit other places saddened our spirits. I 
 dreaded the thought of departing from home, and, in the 
 fulness of my heart, I determined I would never accede to 
 an}' request, which should bear me from a seclusion* so 
 completely commensurate with my wishes. Alas ! alas ! 
 how little do we know of ourselves or our destination ! So- 
 licitations, earnest solicitations, poured in from the Jerseys, 
 from Philadelphia, and from New York ; and it became 
 impossible to withstand their repeated and imposing 
 energy. 
 
 The first visit I made was to a village about eight miles 
 from my late-found home. My patron accompanied me, 
 and we were joyfully received by a serious and respectable 
 family, who embraced with devout hearts the truth as it is 
 
 * Thomas Potter died not far from the year 1790. The feelings of Mr. Murray 
 in visiting this retreat after the death of that highly benevolent individual, and 
 his account of the character of his friend, may be found in brackets in the 
 seventh chapter of this work. — T. W. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 219 
 
 in Jesus ; and who were consequent!}^ saved from all those 
 torturing fears that had previously harrowed up their 
 spirits, in the dread expectation of those everlasting burn- 
 ings which thc}- believed awaited themselves and their 
 offspring. 
 
 In this villaoje I one mornino- entered a house and beheld 
 a fond mother weeping over an infant, who la}^ sweetly 
 sleeping in her arms. Sympathy for the sorrowing mother 
 moistened my ej^e ; and, supposing that her tears flowed 
 from some domestic distress, or pecuniar}^ embarrassment, 
 I endeavored to console her b}- observing that the world 
 was very wide, and that God was an all-suflTicient Father. 
 "Alas! sir," she replied, "I never, in the whole course 
 of m}^ life, experienced a moment's anxiety from the dread 
 of my children or m^'self suffering the want either of food 
 or raiment. No, sir, my fears are that they will be 
 sufferers, through the wasteless ages of eternity, in that state 
 of torment from whence there is no reprieve ; and that they 
 will continually execrate their parents as the wretched 
 instruments of brins^ing them into bein<{. I have ei^ht 
 children, sir; and can I be so arrogant as to believe that 
 all these children are elected to everlasting life?'' — "But, 
 my dear lad3^ you have reason to believe that they will be 
 saved, whether they be elected or not, because Christ Jesus 
 is the Saviour of all men." This did not satisfy her. I 
 took up the Bible, which lay upon her desk, and the first 
 Scripture which met my view was the one hundred and 
 twent3^-seventh Psalm. I glanced my eye upon the third 
 verse of that psalm : " Lo, children are the heritage of the 
 Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward." I did not 
 recollect this passage ; it was the first time it had met my 
 particular observation ; but it has ever since been right 
 
220 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 precious to my soul. I merely opened the Bible in the 
 expectation of finding something to soothe a sorrowing 
 mother, and this most pertinent passage broke upon me 
 with unequalled splendor. I was myself astonished, and, 
 presenting the sacred passage, I remarked, " There, 
 madam, God has sent yon, for your consolation, this divine 
 discover}'. You have been unhapp}^ because you did not 
 know that your children were God's children, and that he 
 loved them as well, j'-ea, infinitely better, than j'ou can 
 pretend to love them. Naj^, look at the passage ; you see 
 your children are the heritage of God, they are his reward ; 
 will he give his heritage to his adversary? or will he 
 suffer him to seize an^^ part thereof, if he has suflicient 
 power to prevent it ? " Again and again the fond mother 
 perused the passage ; gradualh^ her countenance changed, 
 and the clouds dispersed ; a flood of tears burst from her 
 eyes. She brightened up, and, pressing her babe to her 
 maternal bosom, rapturously exclaimed, '• Blessed, blessed 
 God, they are not mine ; they are thine, O Almighty 
 Father ; and thou wilt not be regardless of thine own ! " I 
 never saw more ^oy in consequence of believing than I 
 then beheld. Ten years afterwards I again saw this parent, 
 iind asked her what she thought of her children. ''Blessed 
 be God ! " said she, '' they are God's children ; and I have 
 never had an unhappy moment respecting their future 
 state, since my Redeemer has been graciously pleased to 
 make known unto me his soul-satisfying truth. No, sir, 
 my spirit is not now a sorrowing spirit." 
 
 Again a letter was handed me from New York, earnestly 
 ■entreating me to pay them a visit. Arrangements were 
 made for my passage in the vessel by which I received 
 the solicitation. To a summons so pressing I dared not 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 221 
 
 turn a deaf ear. In fact, a revolution had taken place in 
 my mind. It appeared to me that I was highly repre- 
 hensible in thus withdrawing myself from the tour of duty 
 which seemed appointed for me ; and I determined never 
 to seek directly or indirectly for an open door, and never 
 again refuse entering any door which Providence should 
 open. It is true, I never wished to receive an invitation \ 
 but I was aware that the direction of me and my move- 
 ments were in the hands of infinite Wisdom ; and promising 
 my benevolent host that I would return as soon as possible,^ 
 I departed for New York. My reception surpassed my 
 expectations, and even my wishes. Many persons anxious 
 to detain me in their city went so far as to hand about a 
 subscription-paper, for the purpose of building for me 
 a house of public worship. It was completely filled in one 
 daj^, when application was made to me to abide with them 
 continuall}'. I urged my absolute promise given, and my 
 inclination prompting my return to Good Luck, the name 
 of the place where my friend Potter dwelt. They were 
 astonished at my determination to reside in such a place, 
 when the city of New York was opening its arms to re- 
 ceive me. But on my repeating the circumstances attend- 
 ant upon my arrival there, they seemed disposed to- 
 acquiesce, and to acknowledge the good hand of God out- 
 stretched for my direction. The Baptist meeting-house 
 was again open to me, and the congregations were very 
 large ; my friends multiplied very fast, and I became 
 graduall}^ attached to this city. Yet I ardentl}^ desired ta 
 return to the home of my choice ; and, after spending a few 
 weeks in New York, I once more hailed my providential 
 residence ; numbers of warm-hearted friends accompany- 
 ing me as before, even to the vessel's side, Avhere they 
 
1?22 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 offered up to Heaven their most fervent prayers in my be- 
 half. My heart was gieatl3^ affected. I was warml}^ at- 
 tached to many in New York. The famil}^ of Colonel 
 Darke, and manj- others now no more, were very dear 
 to me. 
 
 I reached home in good health, and was received with 
 great joy ; even the servants seemed to participate the 
 benevolence of their master. In fact, having nothing in 
 the habitation of my friend to render me uneasy, my mind 
 became more tranquil than it had been for many 3^ears ; 
 and, at peace in m}" own breast, I consequently contributed 
 to the happiness of all around me. Thus I continued in 
 undisturbed repose, until a Baptist minister from New 
 Jersey, believing my sentiments precisely in unison with 
 his own, conceived a strong affection for me. He solicited 
 me to become a member of his church, that I might obtain 
 a license from their association. Of course I declined his 
 friendly offers ; for I well knew, when he discovered I really 
 believed the gospel which I preached, uniting with his 
 brethren, he would be as anxious to exclude me from his 
 sjmagogue as he now was to receive me. He pressed me 
 however, to visit him, which I did, accompanied by m}' 
 patron, who, to his great mortification, was necessitated 
 to leave me there. In this gentleman's pulpit I preached. 
 I lodged in his house ; and received from him ever}^ mark 
 of attention, until m}' unbending refusal of all collections, 
 and the partialit}^ of his friends, visibly diminished his 
 regard. I had calculated upon this change, and it did not 
 therefore astonish me. He was, however, a warm-hearted 
 man, and as sincere as men in general are. In this place 
 I was introduced to many worthy characters, who, as a part 
 of the election, obtained a knowledge of the truth as it is 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 223 
 
 in Jesus. Among the rest was a Justice Pangbruii, a vener- 
 able old gentleman who had for many years been con- 
 sidered by his brethren as an oracle. This gentleman 
 heard me, and discovered that my testimon}^ was not in 
 unison with the teaching to which he had listened. He 
 became sedulously intent upon detecting m}' errors, and 
 he soon discovered I was wrong, and as soon kindlj' en- 
 deavored to set me right. But, as there was no other wa}^ 
 of effectuating his wishes but b}' the word of God, — for 
 I refused all other authorit}^, — he was soon convinced, 
 upon searching the sacred writings for proofs of m}^ ho'es}', 
 that it was he himself who had wandered from that precious 
 truth once delivered to the saints. Without hesitation he 
 renounced his former views, and continued ever after an 
 able and zealous advocate for the truth preached by Abra- 
 ham. It was now noised abroad that I was an erroneous 
 teacher. The clergyman who was so warmly attached to 
 me, while he believed me a Calvinistic Baptist, now com- 
 menced a most inveterate adversary ; and his opposition 
 published more extensively my name and peculiar tenets. 
 Curiosity was excited, and I became the object of general 
 inquir3^ It is a melancholy truth that esteem and con- 
 sequent friendship are not generall}^ so operative upon the 
 human mind as rancor and enmit}' . M}^ experience is in 
 unison with this observation. I hastened back to my 
 calm retreat. Alas ! it was no longer m}^ peaceful home, — 
 for, although no change had taken place in the house of 
 m}^ friend, yet the influence of my clerical enem}^ purs ted 
 me. Opposition, however, begat opposition ; and while I 
 was hated by the many, I was loved and caressed b}^ the 
 few. Solicitations to preach were multiplied from every 
 quarter, and although there was no abatement in the 
 
224 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 attachment of m}^ patron, 3^et tbe estrangement of some indi- 
 viduals in our vicinit}^ diminished the difficult}^ of accept- 
 ing invitations, and I was induced to visit a few warm- 
 hearted individuals in the neighborhood of my implacable 
 foe. Upon my arrival there I discovered a want of which 
 I had not until then been conscious : I wanted a horse. A 
 single hint was sufficient ; a horse was immediately pro- 
 cured, and so ardent was the affection of my adherents, 
 that I could not express a wish which they were not eager 
 to gratify ; but my wishes were verj^ much bounded, and 
 ni}' wants few and simple. 
 
 An invitation from Philadelphia being frequently and 
 earnestly repeated, I repaired to that cit}'. A respectable 
 circle of friends awaited me there. The Baptist minister 
 invited me to his house and his pulpit. He questioned me 
 in private, and, in the course of our conversation, he fre- 
 quently repeated, " Christ in us the hope of glory.*' I ven- 
 tured to ask, " Pray, sir, what do 3'ou understand by ' Christ 
 in us the hope of glory* ?" — " Why, sir, in looking into mj' 
 heart, I find something in it which I had not some years 
 ago." — "Do you, sir, call this something, Christ?" — 
 "Undoubtedly." — "But, sir, all the angels of God wor- 
 ship Christ ; all the ends of the earth are admonished to 
 look unto Christ and be saved. We are exhorted to trust 
 in him at all times ; and to believe that there is no other 
 name given under heaven, among men, whereby we can be 
 saved. Now, m}^ good sir, suffer me to ask, would it be 
 safe for angels in heaven, or men upon earth, to worship 
 that something 3'ou have in 3^our heart, which 3'ou had not 
 there some j^ears ago? Would it be safe for all the ends 
 of the earth, or any of the inhabitants of the world, to 
 look to that something for salvation? Could I, or any 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 225 
 
 other person, trust, at all times, to that something?"- — 
 " Then, sir, if this be not Christ, what can the passage I 
 have cited mean?" — " Certainl}', sir, this cannot be the 
 Christ Paul preached. The Christ Paul preached, was cm-' 
 cified ; he was buried ; he arose ; he ascended ; and the 
 heavens must contain him until the time of the restitution 
 of all things." — " But how, then, is it that this Christ can be 
 in ws the hope of glory? " — '' Wh}', sir, the Christian has no 
 other hope of glor}' than Jesus Christ, entered within the 
 vail ; and this Saviour is, in his hearty the object of his 
 trust, confidence, and affection. You have, sir, as I under- 
 stand, a beloved wife in Europe ; but, although the Western 
 Ocean rolls between jou, yet 3'ou ma}^ say she is ever in 
 your heart, and no one would be at a loss to understand 
 you ; but if j'ou were to tell them your conjugal affection 
 was 3'our wife, the}' would stare at you ; and yet it would 
 be as proper to say your conjugal affection was your wife, 
 as to say your love to God, or an}' other good and proper 
 propensity, was your Christ. No, my dear sir, these are 
 not that Christ, the things of which the Spirit of truth 
 taketh and showeth them to men, as the matter of their 
 rejoicing. The Christ of whom you speak can be no other 
 than tlie false Christ ; that is, something which is called 
 Christ, but is not Christ. The Christ of whom you speak, 
 as your hope of glory, was never seen by anybody, and is 
 itself nobody. It neither suffered for your sins, nor rose 
 for your justification ; and it is therefore most unworthy to 
 be held in reverence." This conversation, as may be sup- 
 posed, made this gentleman exceeding angry. And I was 
 not a little surprised to hear him, although he immediately 
 broke i!|) the conference, insist upon my coming the ensuing 
 day (Sunday), according to promise, to preach in his 
 15 
 
226 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 pulpit. The intelligence ran through the city, that I was 
 to preach in the Baptist meeting-house, and numbers flocked 
 to hear. I came ; I entered the parlor of the reverend 
 gentleman. Many of the members of his church were 
 present, and a young candidate for the ministry. The gen- 
 tleman who invited me, and who repeated his invitation on 
 parting with me, arose, and, throwing upon me a most 
 indignant glance, took the j^oung gentleman by the hand 
 and led him into the meeting-house, which was adjoining to 
 his dwelling, leaving me standing in his parlor. I now 
 perceived why he had insisted upon my coming to preach 
 for him. But it was not wonderful. I had spoken con- 
 temptibl}^ of his Christ, and he took rank among m}^ invet- 
 erate foes. Yet I had among his connections a few friends, 
 who, indignant at the treatment I had received, redoubled 
 their caresses. There was at this time a small compan}^ 
 who assembled at a place known by the name of Bachelor's 
 Hall. They were unacquainted with the truth I delivered ; 
 yet, willing to hear for themselves, they invited me to 
 preach for them. Halting between two opinions, thej^ 
 solicited aid from a minister of another persuasion ; and 
 they requested me to hear him ; to which I readily con- 
 sented. The preacher selected his text. " Behold the 
 Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world." He 
 commenced his comment : " My friends, I shall undertake 
 to prove, that Jesus never did, nor never will, take awaj^ 
 the sin of the world." I was astonished, and the persons 
 asking my attendance were abashed. The preacher added, 
 " It is impossible Christ can have taken away the sin of 
 the world, for then all the world must be saved." This was 
 unquestionable. I was exceedingly gratified, and the more, 
 as this sermon, intended for my confusion, did much to 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 227 
 
 establish that truth, of which, b}' the grace of God, I was 
 a promulgator. 
 
 The combined efforts of the clergy in Philadelphia barred 
 against me the door of every house of public worship in 
 the city. Bachelor's Hall was in Kensington. But at 
 Bachelor's Hall the people attended, and a few were enabled 
 to believe the good word of their God. There was in the 
 city a minister of the Seventli-da}' Baptist persuasion. For 
 a season he appeared attached to me, but soon became ver}' 
 virulent in his opposition. He told me he passed on foot 
 nine miles, upon the return of every Saturday, to preach. 
 I asked him how man}- his congregation contained. " About 
 a hundred." — '' How mau}^ of this hundred do you sup- 
 pose are elected to everlasting life?" — " I cannot tell." — 
 ^' Do you believe fifty are elected ? " — " Oh, no, nor twen- 
 ty." — '' Ten perhaps ? " — "There may be ten." — " Do you 
 think the non-elect can take any step to extricate themselves 
 from the tremendous situation in which the decrees of 
 Heaven have placed them?" — "Oh, no, they might as 
 well attempt to pull the stars from the firmament of heaven." 
 — " And do 3'ou think j^our preaching can assist them? " — 
 " Certainly not. Every sermon they hear will sink them 
 deeper and deeper in damnation." — "And so, then, you 
 walk nine miles every Saturday to sink ninety persons out 
 of a hundred deeper and deeper in never-ending miser}" ! " 
 
 Reports, injurious to my peace, were now very generally 
 circulated ; and although I expected all manner of evil 
 would be said of me falsely, for His sake, whose servant I 
 was, 3'et did the shafts of slander possess a deadh^ power 
 by which I was sorely wounded. Had the poisoned weapon 
 been aimed by characters wicked in the common accepta- 
 tion of the word, it would have fallen harmless. Nay, the 
 
2?8 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY- 
 
 fire of their indignation would have acted as a purifier of 
 roy name ; but reports, originating from those who were 
 doemed ho!}- and reverend — alas ! their bite was mortal. 
 Again I sighed for retirement ; again I hastened to the 
 bosom of m}' patron, and again mjM'eception was most cor- 
 dial. Yet, although so much evil was said of me, man}-, 
 glancing at the source, made candid deductions, and were 
 careful to proportion their acts of kindness to the magni- 
 tude of m}" wrongs. Invitations met me upon the road, 
 and, wafted upon the wings of fame, I could enter no town 
 or village which mj^ name had not reached, in which I did 
 not receive good and evil treatment. The clerg}^ and their 
 connections were generall}^ inveterate enemies ; while those 
 who had will and power to act for themselves, and chanced 
 to be favorabl}^ impressed, were very warm in their attach- 
 ments. Thus my friends were very cordial, and my enemies 
 very malignant ; and as my enemies were generally at a 
 distance, and my friends at m}^ elbow, but for officious 
 individuals who brought me intelligence of all they heard, 
 I might have gone on my wa}' with abundant satisfaction. 
 At Brunswick, which I had been earnestly solicited to visit, 
 I was received into a most worthy family. The Rev. Mr. 
 Dunham was of the Seventh-day Baptist persuasion ; a 
 man of real integrit}^, who, although he could not see as I 
 saw, threw open the doors of his meeting-house, conducted 
 me into his pulpit, and discharged toward me, in every par- 
 ticular, the duty of a Christian. His neighbor, a clergy- 
 man, who was a First-day Baptist, exhibited a complete 
 contrast to Mr. Dunham. He invited me, it is true, to his 
 house ; asked me to lodge there. We conversed together, 
 prayed together ; he appeared very kind and much pleased, 
 and I believed him my confirmed friend, until, leaving 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 229 
 
 Brunswick, I called upon some, whose deportment to me 
 was the reverse of what it had been. I demanded a reason ; 
 
 when they frankly informed me, that the Rev. Mr. had 
 
 made such representations as had destro^'ed all the pleasure 
 the}^ had been accustomed to derive from m}^ presence. 
 This affected me beyond expression, a stranger as I was ; 
 and suffering in the dread of what I had to expect, 1 turned 
 from the door of those deceived persons without uttering a 
 word. I quitted their habitations forever. Invidious re- 
 marks were made upon my silence ; but of these I was 
 careless. On other occasions I might have been affected, 
 but treachery from a man who had entertained me so hos- 
 pitably, and who stood so high in the ranks of piety, 
 shocked me beyond the power of utterance. Upon the 
 afternoon of this day on which I had been so deepl}^ hurt, I 
 was engaged to deliver my peaceful message in the pulpit 
 of Mr. Dunham, in the vicinity of this perfidious man. 
 Some time had elapsed since I had seen him, and I then 
 met him upon the road. He advanced toward me with an 
 extended hand, and a countenance expressive of Christian 
 affection. "You are a great stranger, sir?" — "Yes, sir, 
 I am a stranger and sojourner in ever}- place, as all my 
 fathers were before me." — " Well, how have you been 
 since I saw you ? " — " Thanks be to God, I have been pre- 
 served and owned and blessed, notwithstanding the slanders 
 of the adversarj' and his agents." He saw he was detected, 
 and he determined immediatel}" to drop the mask. " Well, 
 I will do all in m}^ power to obstruct 5^our progress 
 in ever}' place." — " Had you, sir, made this declaration at 
 an earlier period, I should at least have believed yoxa an 
 honest man. But to pass yourself upon me as my friend, 
 while you were aiming at me a vital stab ! O sir, I am 
 
230 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 astonished at you." — " And 1 am more astonished at you. 
 Do you not tremble when 3^ou think that God must have a 
 quarrel with you? and that all his ministers in America 
 hate you ? " — '• Sir, I do not believe my Creator is a quar- 
 relsome Being, neither do I credit the information that all 
 God's ministers hate me. A minister of God is incapable 
 of hating any human being." — "But are j'ou not con- 
 founded when 3'ou consider that you nmst be rigJii and we 
 icrong, or j^ou wrong and all God's ministers right? 
 Surel}', it is more probable we should be all right and you 
 
 wrong, than you right and we all wrong." 
 
 I have no 
 
 apprehensions upon this head. Some one might have 
 questioned in the da3's of Elijah, when he was opposed by 
 eight hundred and fifty prophets, '• Do you not tremble 
 to see all these holy and reverend priests on one side, and 
 you alone on the other? Either they must be wrong and 
 you right, or j^ou wrong and they right.' So in Jerusalem 
 our divine Master might have been asked, ' Are 3'ou not 
 appalled at beholding all the ministers of God, all the rulers 
 of the people, in opposition? Either the}^ must be wrong 
 and you right, or you wrong and the}' right ; and which, 
 pra}', is the most probable?' And the people might have 
 been asked, ' Have any of our rulers believed on him? He 
 IS a devil and mad, wh}^ hear yc him?'" — " I am aston- 
 ished at 3'our daring blasphemy in comparing yourself 
 either to Elijah or Christ." — " ^Vh}', was not Elijah a man 
 of like passions with us? And are we not taught to put on 
 the Lord Jesus Christ? Who is it that asks, 'If the^^ have 
 called the Master of the house Beelzebub, what ought 
 the servants of his household to expect?' Elijah is a mem- 
 ber in the same body with me ; but the Redeemer is still 
 nearer. He is my head, the head of every man. He in- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JORX MURRAY. 231 
 
 dulges me with the privilege of denying myself, my sinful 
 self, and he allows me to acknowledge no other than his 
 blessed self; that, thus standing in his name, I may stand 
 in the presence of the Father, the Divinity^ with exceeding 
 joy ; that, asking in the name of his immaculate humanity, 
 I may be sure to receive, that my joy may be full. Nor 
 can all that you, or any one else, can say, be able to shake 
 me from this m}^ stronghold." — "Ay, perhaps you may be 
 mistaken; you may be deceived." — " If I am deceived, 
 I am deceived ; but I will venture." — " You know this is 
 not the privilege of all ; and therefore it may not be 
 3'ours." — " I do not know that this is not the privilege of 
 all, but, if it be of any, it is of the believer ; and, as I 
 believe, it must be mine. ' The}' shall,' said my divine 
 Master, 'say all manner of evil of you. falsely.' You, sir, 
 have been in Brunswick, fulfilling this Scripture ; and I 
 rejoice that I have made the discovery. Tou can never 
 deceive me again ; but as I am not naturally suspicious, 
 others may obtain a lease of my good opinion, from which 
 the}^ will never, but upon the strongest conviction, be 
 ejected." I left this good man beyond measure enraged, 
 and, no doubt, believing he should really render God ser- 
 vice by doing me the most essential injur3^ I immediately 
 repaired to the pulpit of my friend Dunham, where, preach- 
 ing peace, I recovered my lost serenity. And it gladdened 
 my heart to believe that the inveterate enem}- , with whom I 
 had parted upon the road, was included in the redemption 
 it was my business to proclaim. 
 
 But now again my heart failed me ; again I sickened 
 at the prospect before rae, and my whole soul revolting 
 from a continuance in public life, I once more fled to my 
 beloved, my sequestered home. I sighed ardently for my 
 
232 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 emancipation. Of that God, who was in Christ reconcil- 
 ing the world unto himself, I entertained not the smallest 
 dread. But my coward spirit trembled before a combination 
 of religious characters, headed by the clerg}-, and armed for 
 my destruction. Their zeal was manifested by their in- 
 dustriousl}' propagating a variety of evil reports. I would 
 detail them, were the}' not so numerous. And, although 
 all manner of evil had not 3'et been said of me, enough was 
 said to implant a dread of some overwhelming termination. 
 Thus my aversion to the path into which I had been 
 pressed became more imposing. I was read}- to say, Lord, 
 send by whom thou wilt send, and in mercy vouchsafe to 
 grant me my final exit from those surrounding scenes which 
 embosom the retirement of my friend. 
 
 Often have I wept, as I traversed the woods and groves 
 of my patron, at the thought that I could be indulged with 
 the felicity of passing the remainder of my days amid those 
 sylvan scenes ; especially as it was the wish of the liberal 
 master that I should so do. I became apprehensive, that 
 my trials in this New AYorld would surpass those which I 
 encountered in the Old. These agonizing anticipations 
 prostrated me before the throne of the Almighty, imploring 
 his protection ; and from this high communication with m^' 
 Father, God, m}^ griefs have been assuaged and my vvounded 
 spirit healed. Urged b}' a strong sense of dut\', I again visited 
 Ui)per Freehold, to which place I had been repeatedly sum- 
 moned. My acquaintance there was large and respectable ; 
 but it was the residence of a high-priest who treated me 
 roughl}'. I was asked to breakfast at the house of one of 
 his congregation, without the most remote hint that I was 
 to meet this great man ; but I was hardly seated, when he 
 was observed making his approaches ; and, from some ex- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 233 
 
 pressions of surprise, I was induced to believe he was to- 
 tally unexpected. I was astonished to see so many assem- 
 bled ; but supposed that curiosit}' to see the strange 
 preacher of so strange a doctrine had drawn them together. 
 I was, however, afterwards assured that the plan had been 
 previously concerted. Mr. Tennant entered. "We were in- 
 troduced to each other. He drew a chair into the midst of 
 the circle, and, commanding into his countenance as much 
 stern severity as he could collect, he commenced his studied 
 operations. " I want to know, sir, b}' what authority you 
 presume to preach in this place." — '• Pra}', sir, by what 
 authority do you thus presume to question me?" — ''I am, 
 sir, placed here, by Almighty God, to look after the affairs of 
 his church and people ; and I have a right to insist on know- 
 ing who and what you are." — '• AVell, sir, if you be placed 
 here as the vicegerent of Heaven, you should take care how 
 you conduct ; you have a great charge, and your responsi- 
 bility is proportioned to its magnitude. But, sir, I am not as- 
 suming ; I have no design upon your people. I am like a per- 
 son in the time of harvest, who steps into the field, and binds 
 up some sheaves, making no demand upon the proprietor of 
 the grounds. I have never attempted to scatter 3'our sheep ; I 
 have not even plucked a lock of their wool. I do not wish to 
 govern, I onlv aim at being a help." — '' I do not like 3'ou a bit 
 the better for all this stuff. I insist on knowing whether you 
 came in at the door." — '-I wish to know, sir, what door you 
 mean." — '-I mean the door of the church ; all who come 
 not in at that door are thieves and robbers." — " But, sir, I 
 would know what church you mean. The Pope declares 
 there is no true church save the one of which he is the head. 
 The Episcopal bishop affirms there is no true church but that 
 of which the king is the head. Do you, sir, mean either of 
 
234 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 these ? " — " No, sir, I mean the true church. Did you come 
 in at that door ? " — "If, sir, you do not tell me what you 
 mean by the true church, how can I answer you respecting 
 the door?" — " Sir, I will have no evasions. Did you, or 
 did you not, come in at the door ? " — " Jesus Christ says, ' I 
 am the door ; by me, if any man enter, he shall be saved.* 
 Do 3"0u mean this door, sir? " — " No, sir, I mean the door 
 of the church." — " Is not Jesus Christ the door of the 
 church, sir ? " — " No, sir." — " Well, sir, although there be 
 many preachers who have not entered at this door, you will 
 not, I trust, esteem a preacher the less for having the privi- 
 lege to go in and out at this door." — " Sir, I have nothing 
 to do with this. I wish to know w^hether you have church 
 authorit}' for preaching ; that is, whether you came properly 
 in at the door." — " Sir, I have the same authorit}^ for preach- 
 ing, which the apostle Paul had ; he received his mission by 
 the will of God, — so have I." — " A3', sir, give us the same 
 miracles that Paul wrought, and we will believe you." — "If 
 the power of working miracles were necessary to prove a 
 right to preach the gospel, perhaps you, sir, would be also 
 at a loss to prove 3^our own right, either to preach, or thus 
 to question a fellow-creature. " — " Sir, you are a deceitful, 
 hypocritical man. If ^^ou had come properly in at the door I 
 should have received 3'ou ; but you are an impostor, — I pro- 
 nounce 3'ou an impostor." — " That is more than 3'ou know, 
 sir, and, I add, more than I know myself; but, if we cannot 
 agree about the church and the door, blessed be God ! we 
 can agree in one fundamental point : while we were yet sin- 
 ners, Christ Jesus died for us, and while we were yet enemies, 
 we wer<^ reconciled to God by the death of his Son." The 
 old gentleman started from his seat, and, running round the 
 apartment, exclaimed, in a loud and thundering voice, to 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 235' 
 
 those who were without, " Come in, and hear gibberish, 
 gibberish, gibberish ! " I was astonished, and when he had 
 so far spent his rage as to remain for one moment silent, 
 I looked full in his face, and asked, " Pray, sir, what lan- 
 guage do 3'ou make use of ? Is it possible that you^ a 
 clerg3'man, highly distinguished, the head of the Presbyter}', 
 and now in the evening of life, should be so little ac- 
 quainted with the Scriptures as to call the language of 
 revelation gibberish? " — " You know nothing about revela- 
 tion ; there never was an individual of the human race, that 
 ever had any interest in Christ, or in God, until the}' had 
 repentance and faith." — '' Pardon me, sir ; you do not be- 
 lieve this 3'ourself." — " I sa}', I do." — " Excuse me, sir ; you 
 certainly do not." — " Give rae leave to tell you, you have a 
 great deal of impudence thus to talk to me." — " Naj', sir, I 
 do not wish to oftend. I wish you to reconsider 3'our asser- 
 tion. I am confident you do not believe it ; and I am con- 
 fident you will have the goodness to own it before I 
 quit this apartment." — " Let me tell you, 3'oung man, you 
 have the greatest stock of assurance I have ever met with in 
 an}' young person. I tell 3'ou again, there never was an indi- 
 vidual of the human race, who left this world without faith 
 and repentance, who ever had any interest in Christ, or ever 
 tasted happiness." — " Not one ? " — *' No, sir, not one." — 
 " O sir, I am ver}' sorry you compel me to make you retract 
 this aflfirmation." Turning to the company', he required them 
 to say whether they did not think my insolence surpassed 
 credibilit}'. The company were silent, and, after a pause, I 
 said, " I know, sir, if you believe Calvinistic principles, you 
 believe some infants ma}' be eternally lost ; but no Calvinist 
 denies that some infants are interested in Christ, and eter- 
 nally blessed, although they passed out of time without. 
 
236 LIFE OF JtEV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 repentance or faith." — " Sir, I never thought of infants." — 
 " So I imagined ; and it was therefore, sir, I took the lib- 
 •erty to say, you did not believe what you advanced." — " But 
 I believe it with respect to all besides infants." — " No, sir, 
 pardon me, you do not." 
 
 Again he was exceeding angry, until I mentioned idiots. 
 " I did not think of idiots." — "I believe you did not ; but, 
 my good sir, would it not be as well, if you were alwaj^s to 
 think before 3'ou speak? " — " Again I say, I am astonished 
 at your impudence. I could not have believed a young man 
 like you could have had so much impudence." — "I dare say, 
 sir, you are disappointed. You expected to have met a 
 timid, poor, destitute stranger, who would have been con- 
 founded by noise, and such cogent arguments, as gibberish, 
 gibberish, repeatedlj^ vociferated ; you expected I should 
 not have dared to utter a syllable ; you have been pleased to 
 treat me ver}- roughly ; you know not but 3^ou have been 
 pouring vinegar into wounds already sore ; you have, sir, 
 been vexing the stranger, and without any provocation on 
 my part." — " Ay, ay, this is the language of all impostors." 
 
 Thus ended my morning repast. I was very much hurt ; 
 yet I reaped advantage from this new trial. Returning to 
 my lodgings, I experienced the most painful sensations ; 
 but the rebuff I had received operated as usual. It drew 
 me nearer to m}' God, and, pouring out my heart in secret 
 before the Father of my spirit, I obtained what the favor 
 of the clergy could never give, — consolation and peace in 
 believing. 
 
 My conduct at this breakfasting conference was repre- 
 sented in such a point of view as increased the number of 
 my friends ; and clerical gentlemen in this place and its 
 environs forbore direct attacks ; but the tongue of the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JORX MURRAY. 237 
 
 private slanderer was busil}' emplo3'ed. A gentleman of 
 
 C , the Rev. Mr. S , repeatedl}^ attended my public 
 
 labors ; addressed me after preaching, continued some time 
 in conversation with me, and appointed a day on which he 
 pressed me to dine with him. I accepted his politeness 
 
 with gratitude, and was punctual to the time. Mr. S 
 
 received me with manifest satisfaction ; we were alone, and 
 
 we passed many hours most pleasanth'. Mr. S seemed 
 
 solicitous that I should view him neither as a sceptic nor a 
 caviller, but simply an inquirer after truth. He asked me 
 many questions, which I answered as clearly as I was 
 able ; and he appeared sometimes dissatisfied, sometimes 
 silenced. Upon the whole, his deportment was gentlemanly, 
 and I could not forbear regarding him as a sensible, illu- 
 mined Christian. On my departure, he urged me to con- 
 sider his house my home whenever I visited C ; waited 
 
 on me while I mounted m}^ horse, pressed my hand, and, 
 with much apparent devotion, supplicated the blessing of 
 Heaven upon me. On recurring to my journal, I find my 
 notice of this interview concluded as follows : '' Thus far 
 am I brought on my way rejoicing ; the Lord is my sun 
 and shield ; blessed be the name of m}^ God ! " Yet no 
 
 sooner was I out of view, than this same Mr. S ordered 
 
 his horse, and, posting to every respectable family in his 
 parish, informed them that with all my cunning^ he had 
 outwitted me ; that he had asked me to dine, and, hy flattery 
 and caresses^ had throvm me off my guard.) and obtained a 
 complete knowledge of my principles. " Well, dear sir, 
 and what are his principles?" — "Oh! truly shocking! 
 horrid! most horrid! I dare not relate them; 3'ou shall 
 not be contaminated by the recital ; it would be dangerous 
 in the extreme." Nor was this enough. Being a member 
 
238 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 of the Presb3'ter3'', be wrote a circular letter, addressing 
 ever}-- leading associate, which effectually steeled all hearts, 
 and, so far as his influence extended, barred every door 
 against me. Calumnies of various descriptions were dis- 
 seminated ; rancor became uncommonly prolific ; astonishing 
 efforts were made to destroy my reputation ; but God was 
 with me, and his spirit was my never-failing support. In 
 the midst of these fierj^ trials, I passed on ; succeeding 
 weeks and months rolled awa}^, while my days were appro- 
 priated to my beloved home, to different parts of the Jer- 
 seys, Philadelphia, New York, and many of the intervening 
 towns scattered between those cities. 
 
 In the commencement of the autumn of 1772, I was 
 strongly induced to journey as far as Newport, in Rhode 
 Island ; and, having dropped a tear at parting with my 
 faithful friend, I commended him to the care of Heaven, 
 and began my new tour of duty. The chilly mornings and 
 evenings of even the first autumnal month gave me to 
 experience the want of an outside garment. I was, how- 
 ever, determined not to solicit human aid ; this, I believed, 
 would be taking the business out of the hand of my Mas- 
 ter. If God had sent me, he would put it into the hearts 
 of his people to supply me ; yet I did not calculate that this 
 want would be supplied until I reached New York. I 
 believed I had in that city a friend who would derive 
 pleasure from administering to my necessities. But when 
 I was preparing to leave Brunswick, a person entered the 
 parlor, displa3^ed a number of patterns, requested I would 
 make a choice for a great-coat, and asked how long I should 
 tany in town. I told him I should leave town early on the 
 succeeding morning. " Well, sir," he returned, " 3'our 
 •coat shall be ready." I asked by whom he was sent. '' Sir, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 239 
 
 I was ordered not to say b}' whom." — " It is very well ; 
 I know who sent yon." — '' Do you, sir? " — " Yes, sir ; it 
 was God, my Father ; who, having all hearts in his hand, 
 has stixnulated j^our emplo3'er." Early the following morn- 
 ing the coat was brought home. I was deepl}^ affected, 
 and, laying ray hand upon it, I said, " Henceforward thou 
 shalt be ni}^ monitor ; whenever I feel my heart desponding, 
 in silent but persuasive language thou shalt say, ' Cast th}' 
 care upon God, for he careth for thee.' " It was not so 
 much the supply of this pressing want that pleased me, as 
 the recognition of the immediate hand of paternal Deity, 
 who thus vouchsafed to own and bless my mission. On 
 my arrival in New York, I learned, to my great astonish- 
 ment, that the friend on whom my hopes of a winter garment 
 had rested was become m}^ enemy ! I was greatly pained. He 
 was very dear to me ; but a religious slanderer had been at 
 his ear, and had prejudiced him against me. I lost him 
 forever. Alas ! alas, how many such losses have I sus- 
 tained since I became a promulgator of the truth as it is 
 in Jesus. 
 
 Leaving New York, I postponed my journey to Newport, 
 passed through East Jerse}-, and stopped at Amboy, where 
 I had man}^ friends. Sitting one evening at tea with a 
 lady, she complained that her maid had quitted her, having 
 been seduced from her duty by a foot-soldier. This imme- 
 diately reminded me of Mrs. Trinbath, the poor unhapp}' 
 lady at whose house in Cork I had, in company with Mr. 
 Whitefield and others, been so splendidly entertained. I 
 related the mournful tale, when the lady assured me she 
 knew the unhappj^ creature ; she had seen her in Ambo}^, 
 and that she was now in New York in a most wretched 
 situation. I immediatel}^ conceived a hope that, if I could 
 
240 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 obtain an interview with her, I might prevail upon her to 
 return to her widowed mother, and to her children ; and, 
 although her husband was no more, she might j'et, in some 
 measure, retrieve the past. Alas I alas ! I did not calculate 
 that I was thus making provision for the most serious 
 calamit}' which, during ni}' sojourn in this New World, had 
 until then overtaken me. 
 
 The following da}^, intent on my purpose, I took passage 
 in the packet for Xew York, accompanied by the sergeant- 
 major of the regiment to which the fellow belonged, witli 
 whom this deluded woman lived. I asked him if he knew 
 such a person. Yes, he knew her, and she was in a ver}^ 
 wretched condition. I sighed, from the inmost recesses of 
 m}^ soul, while I listened to his account of her manner of 
 living. I begged to know if I could see her. Yes ; he 
 could conduct me to her abode ; but on our arrival, passing 
 over the common, near the gaol, to the residence of this 
 poor creature, we chanced to meet her infamous seducer, 
 who, not having heard of the death of Mr. Trinbath, imme- 
 diately concluded I was that injured husband, come to 
 reclaim my wretched wanderer. Under this impression he 
 hastened home, and effectually secreted her before we 
 reached the door. I was disappointed ; but I informed a 
 poor creature in the house that I would call upon the 
 ensuing da}', at one o'clock, when I hoped I might obtain 
 an interview. I was the next da}- punctual to the appoint- 
 ment ; but, instead of the misguided woman, I received a 
 letter, directed to Mr. Trinbath, entreating most earnestl}^ 
 that I would not attempt to see her ; that, after treating me 
 as she had done, she never would see me more ; and that, 
 if I persisted in pursuing her, she would leave the city, and, 
 taking with her her miserable children, they would all 
 
 I 
 
LIFE OF BEV. JOHX MURRAY. 241 
 
 perish together ; for she would rather than meet my ej-e 
 suffer a thousand deaths. 1 was bej'ond measure shocked 
 at this letter. I saw the absolute necessity of seeing and 
 convincing her of her error ; but how was this to be effect- 
 uated? I could devise no plan. I told the old woman it 
 was a most capital mistoke ; that I was not the person she 
 supposed. '' Oh," said she, "^ you need sa}' nothing about 
 that, sir ; everj'bod}^ knows 3'ou are her husband, and 
 everybody pities you, poor gentleman, that j'ou should 
 have such a wife ; but she has had bad advisers, and I dare 
 say if you can see her and forgive her (and everybody 
 says that if you did not intend to do so, you would never 
 have sought her), she will again be a very good woman." I 
 was provoked beyond endurance ; but every appearance of 
 irritation was imputed to m}^ disappointment and conse- 
 quent resentment. My soul was harrowed up by agonizing 
 distress. Unable to convince the old woman, I returned to 
 my lodgings. M3' friends perceived the anguish of my 
 spirits, for which the}' were well able to account ; they, 
 however, carefully avoided the subject. At last, not being 
 able to control my emotions, I burst into tears. The}' 
 were alarmed. ''What is the matter?" Icircumstantiall}' 
 related the whole story, and dwelt upon my sufferings, 
 consequent upon my inabilit}' to see Mrs. Trinbath, and 
 convince her of her mistake. My friends appeared relieved, 
 and proposed m}- writing to her, and leaving it at her lodg- 
 insrs. She will see it is not the handwritino; of her husband. 
 The propriety of this measure was obvious. I asked the 
 gentleman if he would accompan}' me. "Most gladly." 
 I wrote immediately, laboring to convince this unfortunate 
 woman of her error, and assuring her that m}' friend, Mr. 
 
 rrinbath, had been many years dead ; that if she would but 
 IG 
 
242 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUERAT. 
 
 give me a meeting for a single moment, she would acknowl- 
 edge she had nothing to fear from me. This letter was 
 ineffectual ; she was positive it was all a deception, and 
 that, Avith a view of deceiving her, I had employed some 
 other pen. 
 
 This stor}" was a sweet morsel to my religious foes. It 
 was painted in the most odious colors, and industriously 
 exhibited. They declared the woman was unquestionably 
 m}^ wife ; and that, on account of the treatment she had 
 received from her barbarous husband, she had preferred 
 putting herself under the protection of a common soldier ; 
 that she had attended church upon a lecture evening, and 
 upon seeing me, her husband, in the pulpit, she had shrieked 
 aloud and fainted. This and a thousand other falsehoods 
 were circulating through the cit3\ M}^ humane friends at 
 length interfered ; they solicited the commanding officer to 
 oblige the fellow with whom the woman lived to produce 
 her. She approached with dread apprehension. A large 
 company was collected, spectators of the scene. She 
 caught a glance, and exclaiming, in a tremulous accent, " It 
 is — it is he," immediately fainted. Curiosity and human- 
 ity combined to recover her ; she was led into the parlor. 
 I appeared full before her, entreating her to take a view of 
 my face. She did so, and no words can express her confu- 
 sion. Her acknowledgments were repeated and copious. 
 She did not recollect ever to have seen me before. I was 
 most happy in the result of this untoward business, which 
 had nearly annihilated my anxiety respecting her restora- 
 tion to her connexions. Indeed, I was assured no entrea- 
 ties would procure her return to Cork. So man}^ had 
 witnessed an eclaircissement so honorable to me, that I 
 fondly believed it would be attached to the narration ; but, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 243 
 
 alas ! there was not a thousandth part of the pains taken 
 to publish the truth as had been taken to spread far and 
 wide the slander. Here it was tlie still voice of friendship ; 
 there it was slander with her thousand tongues. None but 
 God can tell how much I have suffered from the various 
 trials I have encountered. Again I mournfull}- acknowl- 
 edged that my object in coming to America was not in any 
 view obtained ; that my grand desideratum appeared 
 further and further from my reach. Again I wished most 
 ardently to be in England ; 3'ea, in the very scenes from 
 which I had escaped, if I might thus be delivered from the 
 distracted situation in which I was involved ; and the more 
 I contemplated the indignation and power of the clerg}', 
 the more frequentl}^ I exclaimed, " Doubtless I shall one day 
 perish by the hand of my enemy." Yet, in the darkest 
 night of my affliction, my gracious God frequently vouch- 
 safed to grant me peace and joy in believing that his 
 almighty power was sufficient for me ; and, in the pulpit, 
 whatever was my previous situation, either mental or 
 corporeal, when engaged in the investigation of divine 
 truth, I was not only tranquil but happy. And this happi- 
 ness I often enjoyed ; for an ardent curiosity obliged the 
 people everywhere to hear ; and, when a pulpit could not 
 be obtained, a private house, a court-house, a wood, an- 
 swered the purpose ; and I rejoiced, while contemplating 
 the irradiations of divine truth bursting through the dark 
 clouds of prejudice, and with such imposing splendor as 
 could onl}' be effectuated by Omnipotent power. 
 
 I received frequent and most pressing invitations to 
 visit New England. During my residence in New York, 
 I became known to many gentlemen of Connecticut ; and 
 I was requested to stop and deliver my testimony in vari 
 
244 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Oils places along the road. I resumed 1113' purpose of visit- 
 ing Newport, determining to proceed thither with all 
 possible ilespatch. I had, however, promised to stop at a 
 friend's house in Milford, and at another's in Guilford ; at 
 which places I preached to ver}" large congregations. Sev- 
 eral strangers, having seen rae elsewhere, recognized me 
 and entreated me to accompany them to their respective 
 homes ; but my object was Newport. Many individuals 
 from Norwich departed from Guilford with me ; they gave 
 me to understand that, having made a part of my audi- 
 ence on the preceding evening, they were extremely desir- 
 ous I should proceed with them to Norwich. We passed 
 the day very agreeably together, conversing with great 
 freedom. About sunset we reached New London, where it 
 was m}^ resolution to bid my new associates adieu. But 
 they so earnestly importuned me to go on, one gentleman 
 in particular, that, accepting his proffered kindness, I was 
 that night lodged in his hospitable dwelling. He soon 
 became, and ever after continued, m}^ steadfast friend. 
 Mau}^ in Norwich received me with great kindness. A 
 house of worship was provided ; but it not being suffi- 
 ciently spacious, the doors of the great meeting-house 
 were thrown open, and never afterwards shut against me. 
 Thus, in this instance, the zeal of the people has been 
 sufficient!}^ imposing to prevail against ministerial opposi- 
 tion. The friends I obtained in Norwich were, in truth, 
 inestimable. Some individuals are not yet called home. 
 They remain unwavering in the belief of the truth as it is 
 in Jesus, and in their affectionate attachment to its feeble 
 advocate. At Norwich I was solicited to preach in the 
 meeting-house of Mr. Hart, of Preston ; to which place 
 many of my new friends accompanied rae. Having passed 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 245 
 
 the night at Preston, on the succeeding morning I recom- 
 menced m}^ journe}' with the Rev. Mr. Hopkins,* of New- 
 port. The distance was between thirty and forty miles ; 
 but as Mr. Hopkins was going home he would not stop to 
 dine on the road. In the course of the da}-, Mr. Hopkins 
 thus questioned me: "Well, sir, I suppose 3'ou will 
 preach in Newport?" — " Very likely, sir." — "You have 
 friends there, I presume?" — " No, sir, I do not know a 
 single soul." — "You have letters of recommendation, 
 perhaps?" — "Not a line, sir." — "Where, then, do 3'ou 
 intend to go, and what do you intend to do?" — "I have 
 laid no plans, sir." — "I promise you, you shall not preach 
 in my meeting." — " I should be very much surprised if I 
 did, sir." — "And I suppose you think you are called of 
 God to go to Newport?" — "I think it is not unlikelj^, 
 sir." — " I believe 3'ou will find yourself mistaken." — " It 
 is possible." — "Suppose you should find no place to 
 preach in, what would 3'ou do then?" — "Devote m3'self 
 to private conversation." — " But suppose you could find 
 no one to converse with?" — "Then I would turn about 
 and come back again." — "But what would you think of 
 your faith? " — " Call it fancy. But, at present, I think I 
 shall preach the gospel in Newport ; and, although I am 
 an utter stranger, knowing no one, nor known by an}' one, 
 yet I expect, before I leave the place, to have man}' 
 friends." — " Ay, these are fine fancies indeed." — "Had 
 you not better suspend your decision until you witness the 
 result? Will it not then be full time to determine whether 
 it he faith ov fancy?" — "If it should not be as I pre- 
 dict, I should not be ashamed to own my error ; if it 
 
 ♦ See Murray's " Letters and Sketches," vol. i., letter iv. I have supplied the 
 name of Hopkins for the initial, which has been adopted in other editions. — 
 T. W 
 
246 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 should, you ought to blush for 3'our unwarrantable confi- 
 dence. But, as it is not impossible you may preach in 
 that citj% and that some of my people may be among the 
 number of your hearers, I think I have a right to question 
 3'ou." — '• Tf God will give me leave to preach to his peo- 
 ple, I am content." — " What do you mean by that, sir? '* 
 
 — "Your observation brought to my mind what, on a 
 certain occasion, a very distinguished servant of God said 
 to his master when he was told to go down and see what 
 Ids people were doing. ' O Lord, they are not nvj jDeople, 
 they are thy people.' However, Moses was not settled on 
 your plan." — "Well, sir, I look upon m}^ people to bo 
 God's people." — " You are perfectly right, sir ; so indeed 
 they are ; and if I speak to them at all, I shall speak to 
 them in that character." — "Well, sir, as 3'ou call j'our- 
 self a preacher of the gospel, and may, as I have said, 
 preach to my people, it is proper I should know w hat ideas 
 you have of gospel. Tell me, sir, what is gospel?" — "I 
 am happ3^ in being able to give 3^ou a direct answer. The 
 gospel, sir, is a solemn declaration, given upon the oath 
 of Jehovah, that ' in the seed of Abraham all the nations 
 should be blessed.' " — " Is that all you know of gospel?" 
 
 — " Would it not, my good sir, require a very long time 
 to inform mankind who and what that Seed is? How, and 
 in what manner all the nations of the earth are and shall 
 he blessed therein? And what blessings th'ey are blessed 
 with in Christ Jesus? The apostle Paul, although he 
 labored more abundantly than his brethren, found this 
 vast, this important subject, abundantly sufficient for his 
 ivhole life. And those who are blessed in that Seed will 
 find the contemplation of that blessedness, which they 
 shall be blessed with in him^ sufficient to furnish a song, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 247 
 
 which, although never ending, will be ever new." — "If 
 such be your views, you know nothing at all of gospel." — 
 "You could not so absolutely determine this matter, if you 
 yourself were not acquainted with the meaning of the term 
 gospel. Tell me, then, sir, if you please, what is gospel?" 
 
 — " Why, sir, this is gospel : ' He that believeth, shall be 
 saved; and he that believeth not, shall be damned.'" — 
 " Indeed, sir, I had thought tlie literal^ simple meaning of 
 the term gospel was glad tidings. Which part of the pas- 
 sage you have cited is gospel, that which announces salva- 
 tion, or that which announces damnation?" — ^'' Well, 
 then, if j^ou please, this is gospel : ' He that believeth, 
 shall be saved.' " — " Believeth what, sir?"— "That." — 
 "What, sir?"— "That, I tell you." — "What, sir?" — 
 " That, I tell you : ' He that believeth, shall be saved.' " — 
 " Believeth what, sir? What is he to believe? " — " Why, 
 that, I tell 5^ou." — "I wished, sir, to treat this investiga- 
 tion seriously ; but as j^ou seem disposed to be rather 
 ludicrous, we will, if you please, dismiss the subject." — 
 " Xo, sir, I do not mean to be ludicrous ; I am very 
 serious." — " Well, sir, if so, then I beg leave to ask what 
 is it I am to believe, the believing of which luill save me?" 
 
 — "That Jesus Christ made it possible for sinners to be 
 saved." — " By what means ? " — " By believing." — " Be- 
 lieving what? " — '^ That." — " What? " — " That Jesus 
 Chiist made it possible for sinners to be saved." — "By 
 what means is it possible that sinners may be saved?" — 
 "By believing, I tell you." — "But the devils believe; 
 will their believing save them?" — "No, sir." — "Sup- 
 pose I believe that Jesus Christ made it possible to save 
 sinners ; will that save me? " — " No, sir." — " Then, sir, 
 let me ask what am I to believe, the believing of which 
 
248 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 will save me?" — " Why, sir, you must believe the gospel 
 that Jesus made it possible for sinners to be saved." — 
 " But by what means ? " — "By believing." — " Believing 
 what?" — " That, I tell you." 
 
 Mr. Hopkins could not but be conscious the ground he 
 had taken was untenable. Had he answered in Scripture 
 language that the truth to be believed, and which we make 
 God a liar by not believing, was that Christ had given him- 
 self a ransom for all, to be testified in due time; that he had 
 absolutely tasted death for every man ; and that every man 
 should be made alive in Christ Jesus, etc., etc., the in- 
 ference was unavoidable, nor man, nor devil could undo 
 what God had done. The power exists not which can set 
 aside the decrees of God. If the Redeemer did not taste 
 death for all ; if he has not purchased all ; then those for 
 whom he has not tasted death, whom he has not purchased, 
 have no right to believe he has ; and were they so to be- 
 lieve, the}^ must indubitably believe a lie. 
 
 But, finding the temper of Mr. Hopkins rise higher and 
 higher every time I repeated my question, I endeavored to 
 bring the matter to a conclusion, by observing that I was 
 astonished to find a master in Israel, and a writer too, 
 either not able, or not willing, to answer a simple question, 
 namely, what am I to believe is the foundation of my sal- 
 vation ? What am I to believe procures m}^ justification 
 in the sight of God?" — "And I am astonished at your 
 blasphemy." — "This is in character, sir; men of 3'our 
 description were long since fond of fixing this charge on 
 both the Master and his witnesses. But, remember, sir, 
 if I have blasphemed, it is only Mr. Hopkins whom I 
 have blasphemed." — " Well, sir, I believe I have gone too 
 far. I will, if you please, take back the charge." — "With 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 249 
 
 all my heart, sir." — '• I do not doubt 3'ou may be admired 
 in Newport a whole fortnight." — "That, no doubt, will 
 be fourteen da3'S longer than 3'ou would wish." 
 
 Arriving in sight of Newport Mr. Hopkins said, " There 
 sir, is my meeting-house ; at a little distance from thence 
 is my dwelling-house, and my friends are multiplied." 
 
 — "Well, sir, 1 have no home, meeting-house, nor friend, 
 in Newport. Yet, I repeat, before I leave that city I ex- 
 pect to have more than one home and many friends." 
 — " Well, now I think of it, there is one man who has 
 a little place in which possibly you ma}^ get leave to preach. 
 I will direct 3'ou to a man who has some acquaintance with 
 him." — "I will thank 3^ou, sir, to inform me where my 
 horse may be taken care of; for myself I have little con- 
 cern." — "I promise you horse-keeping is ver3^ high in 
 Newport." — " That, sir, is ver3' sad tidings to me, for I 
 promise 3'ou my finances are very low." Some ver3^ bitter 
 speeches were made ; and I regretted that I was . so unfor- 
 tunate as to have taken the journe3^ with Mr. Hopkins. 
 " Your people," said I, " are leavened with the leaven of the 
 Pharisees, and you seem to be leavened wath the leaven of 
 Herod." — " What do 3'ou mean by the leaven of Herod? " 
 
 — "I mean the nature of Herod." — " How does that ap- 
 pl3'?" — "Some persons urged our Master to fl3Mn con- 
 sequence of Herod's seeking his life. ' (tO,' said he, '•tell 
 that fox I ivork to-day and to-morroic^* etc., etc. Our 
 Master denominated Herod a fox for the purpose of giving 
 an idea of his nature. What is a fox? A creature 
 that lives upon the spoil ; but he is dependent upon the 
 secrecy of the night, and we are told, in order t)ie more 
 effectuall3' to cover his designs, he sometimes imitates the 
 watch-dog, thus endeavoring to make it appear he is de- 
 
250 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 fending the property of the husbandman, while, under the 
 guise of watchful care for others, he is covertly acting for 
 himself till the morning dawns, till the light appears, and 
 then his labor ends. This is the leaven of Herod, and it 
 was of the nature of this insidious animal that our Lord 
 cautioned his disciples to beware." — " Well, there is 
 something ingenious in that, I confess." We reached the 
 ferry a little before sunset, and on landing at Newport, 
 " There," said Mr. Hopkins, pointing to a small shop, " if 
 you will call on that man he will give you direction." I 
 walked on, stopped at the door, and, holding the bridle in 
 my hand, asked the man behind the counter if he would 
 be so oblio^inor as to inform me which was the best inn for 
 keeping horses. " Please to walk in, sir." I fastened my 
 horse, and entered the shop, and seeing the man look very 
 gloomy, and hearing him sigh very bitterly, I concluded he 
 must be under the pressure of some heavy calamit} ; and, 
 as no woman appeared, I suspected the poor fellow must 
 have lost his wife, and my sympathies were very power- 
 fully excited. I was, however, solicitous about my horse, and 
 again requested the requisite information. " Do not make 
 yourself uneasy, sir ; my little boy will be here in a few mo- 
 ments, when I will send him with 3'our horse, and you will be 
 so obliging as to tarry here and drink tea ; my wife is out of 
 town, and of course things will not be so well as if she 
 were here." I was very much relieved by this intelligence, 
 and sat down. " How far have you travelled to-da}', sir?" 
 — " From Preston, in Connecticut, sir." — " Did you come 
 alone, sir?" — " No, sir, I came in company with a Mr. 
 Hopkins, one of your teachers. I parted with him at the 
 ferry." — "Did he not ask you to his house?" — *' No, 
 sir." — " Well, sir, I hope you will believe there i» not 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 251 
 
 another man in this town who would have been so deficient. 
 You must however, tarr}^ here to-night, and we will take 
 especial care of 3"our horse." — "You are very obliging, 
 sir ; but I had rather, if you please, attend to my horse 
 mj'self." — "Will you, sir, be so good as to leave this 
 matter to rae, and take some refreshment 3'ourself ? You 
 are a public character, and I have been accustomed to 
 attend to public characters." — "How do j-ou know I 
 am a public character? There is nothing in my appear- 
 ance which indicates it." — " The moment j^ou came to 
 my door it seemed as if some one had said, ' The person 
 who addresses you is a preacher ; take kind notice of him ;' 
 and I immediately determined to obey the impulse." 
 
 This instance of providential care nearly overpowered' 
 me. I was the more affected by this bright manifes- 
 tation, as it closed a very dark da}^ It spoke to m}' 
 wounded mind the language of assurance ; my divine 
 Master was with me, and he had pi'epared the heart 
 of this man to receive me, and this soothing consider- 
 ation gave me inexpressible pleasure. Had I been in 
 a clerical dress, or had the smallest vestige of those 
 habiliments been discernible, I should have believed those 
 externals had produced their effect. But, divested as I 
 was of everything which could speak to the eye, I could not 
 but greath' rejoice in this instance of recognizing goodness, 
 and my full soul glowed with fervent and devotional grati- 
 tude. My cup of tea was mingled with m}- tears ; but 
 the}^ were tears of joy, of sacred rapture. It was like the 
 priest leaving me, and the good Samaritan taking me up ; 
 and the oil and wine thus poured into my lacerated bosom 
 were most sahitarv, trulv refreshing:. 
 
 M}^ kind host summoned a number of his friends to- 
 
252 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 pass the evening ; they all appeared very gloom}^, and I 
 had sympath}^ for their situation. After being introduced 
 they continued for some time silent, and sighed in their 
 turns very bitterl}'. Those sighs however, although signs, 
 were not proofs, of sorrow ; it was the custom for very re- 
 ligious people to be very melancholy, and these w^ere ver}^ 
 religious people ; so much so, that I afterwards discovered 
 there was no society in tow^n with which they could con- 
 scientiously^ associate. It was proposed I should narrate 
 my experiences, that they might judge if I were a child 
 of God. I ver}^ readily accommodated myself to their 
 wishes, and gave them a sketch of some memorable scenes 
 in my life. When I closed, a profound silence, interrupted 
 only b}^ sighs, succeeded. At last one affirmed I was not a 
 child of God ; my experiences were not of the true kind ; he 
 could not go with me. A second pronounced I was a child 
 of God, for he felt me as I proceeded. Being thus divided, 
 they knew not on what to determine. At last it was pro- 
 posed to apply to Mr. D , for his meeting-house. This 
 
 was the very place pointed out by Mr. Hopkins. I knew 
 his design was to ruin me, and therefore without hesitation 
 I said I did not feel a freedom to speak in the proposed 
 place. Well, would I preach in the room in which we 
 were sitting ; many had so done, and why not me? This, 
 also, I rejected ; it was too much confined. The}' pronounced 
 me very difficult ; they did not believe I should find an}' 
 other place. I assured them I was not anxious in this 
 respect. If God had sent me, he would provide a place 
 for me ; if he had not, I was willing to return whence I 
 came. " Perhaps God has provided you a place by direct- 
 ing us to make these offers." — " No, sir, if God had 
 directed you to make these oflfers, and had thought proper 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 253 
 
 I should deliver my message in either of the places 
 mentioned, he would have disposed mj^ heart to enobrace 
 them ; but this I feel he has not done." The}' pronounced 
 me ver}' odd, and took their leave; but the master of the 
 house and one of his friends, conceiving there was some- 
 thing uncommon in me, m}' manner and m}' matter, con- 
 tinued with me in conversation the gi'eater part of the 
 night, and although I had travelled all the da}' yet I found 
 no inconveniences from this additional fatigue. 
 
 After breakfast, on the ensuing day, I walked round the 
 town, and was much pleased with its situation. Its harbor 
 and perspective views delighted me ; and, although a stran- 
 ger, with only a few shillings in my pocket, my bosom was 
 as tranquil as if in my own residence, and master of thou- 
 sands. Blessed be God ! I have never yet experienced 
 much solicitude about this world, or the gifts which it has 
 to bestow. It never entered my head or heart that I should 
 not be supplied with whatever was necessary for me. I had 
 fared hard, and I could again accommodate myself to the 
 vicissitudes of life, — yea, and without a murmur. I con- 
 tinued perambulating the streets until the hour of dining, 
 when I returned to my lodgings. " Well, sir, the commit- 
 tee of Dr. Stiles'* meeting have been here to engage you 
 to supply their pulpit to-morrow, — Sunday, — and they 
 will call for your answer in the evening." I was, I confess, 
 astonished ; but the evening produced the committee, and 
 I acceded to their wishes. One of the gentlemen pressed 
 
 * I have supplied the name of Stiles. I suppose it to have been Ezra Stiles, 
 D.D., afterwards President of Yale College. He left Newport in 1776, when his 
 congregation was dispersed by the war, and was chosen to the presidency in 
 1777. After his removal to Xew Haven, on one occasion when Mr. Murray was 
 there, he gave orders that not one of the students should hear him. — Letters aiuJ 
 Sketches, i. 317. — T.W. 
 
254 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 me to return with him, and take up m}- abode at his house 
 during my continuance in Newport. I did so, and was 
 ■soon domesticated in his family, which continued my 
 •occasional home for many, very many years. Doctor Stiles 
 was absent, and it was the business of the committee to 
 suppl}' the desk till his return. My appearance was oppor- 
 tune, and the people were generally pleased. I was re- 
 quested to publish a lecture for the next day. I did so, 
 and the congregation was crowded and attentive. I in- 
 formed the audience that I purposed tarrying in Newport 
 two weeks, during which time I was ready to unite with 
 them in consulting the sacred writings as often as they 
 pleased ; but if I delivered anymore lectures, it must be in 
 the evening. M3' reason for which was, that there were 
 many laboring persons who could not attend without loss 
 of time, — and loss of time to them was loss of property. 
 I was then informed, that when Mr. Whitefield was last 
 there, the parish had passed a vote against evening lectures. 
 I replied, " The parish has an indubitable right to adhere 
 to their vote ; but they must excuse me if I thought it my 
 dut}^ to abide by my determination." The parish met, re- 
 considered their vote, and requested me to preach in the 
 evening. Here, then, I preached every evening until the 
 doctor's return; to whom my kind, honest host requested 
 me to accompan}^ him on a visit, insisting upon my prom- 
 ising that I would return with him. Simple man ! because 
 he, a hearer, was pleased, he conceived his minister would 
 also be pleased, and that he would press me to abide at his 
 house. I promised him, however, and he exulted in having 
 gained his point. The doctor received me with cool civility ; 
 asked me a great man}^ questions ; spoke of my pulpit tal- 
 ents .in the way I expected he would speak of them ; and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 255 
 
 finalh' expressed regret that be could not ask m}- assistance 
 on the ensuing day, — Sunda}-, — as there were so man}' 
 individuals who would be offended. M}^ friend was aston- 
 ished. I was not. My friend observed there was but one 
 in the congregation who was opposed to my preaching in 
 their meeting-house ; and, he added, if I did not preach, the 
 people would be greatly disappointed. The doctor would 
 not hear him, and we parted, without my receiving even 
 an invitation to repeat my call. My guileless host ex- 
 pressed great surprise. " So good a man as the doctor ! 
 "Wh}*, I imagined he would have taken you into his arms, 
 and never, if he could help it, have permitted yo\i to lodge 
 an3^where but under his roof." From this moment I had 
 much to grieve me in Newport ; for, although m}' friends 
 were numerous, and m}^ enemies but few, yet those few 
 were uncommonly industrious. 
 
 On Monday morning, one of the committee who had first 
 engaged me to preach called upon me at m}^ lodgings, and 
 informed me there came on Saturday night, from Xew York, 
 a reverend divine, who had given me a most horrid charac- 
 ter. He had said man}^ things which he hoped and believed 
 were not true. "Pray, sir, where is this good man?" — 
 " He is, sir, at the house of Mr. Rogers, father of the Rev. 
 Mr. Rogers." — "Will jou, sir, call upon this gentleman 
 with me?" — " Certainh^ sir; but j^ou had better first 
 take breakfast." — " B3' no means, I ma}- miss him; and 
 I want to see him in your presence." 
 
 We hurried off immediately, but, alas ! he had left town 
 at break of day. He had just cast out firebrands, arrows, 
 and death, and withdrawn from the investigation upon 
 which he had reason to calculate. The parade was full of 
 people. The reports ran like wildfire. Fame had blown 
 
256 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 the trumpet of slander, and at the house of Mr. Rogers 
 many were assembled. I regretted that the reverend 
 calumniator had flown. I wished to be tried in the pres- 
 ence of the people. I requested, however, that they would 
 exhibit the charges lodged against me. The}^ did so, and 
 they consisted of the following items: First, I had for- 
 merly labored for my living ; secondly, I was a married man ; 
 thirdly, I had children ; fourthl}^ I had been a stage-player ; 
 and fifthl}^ I had sung songs. Upon which I observed, " Per- 
 haps my denial of these charges ma}' answer little purpose. 
 Yet, as in the presence of Heaven, you will allow me to 
 sa3^, that, although I have made some unsuccessful attempts 
 to obtain an honorable competency, yet I have, alas! and 
 it is with extreme sorrow I make the declaration, I have, 
 in this worlds neither wife nor child. I solemnly assure 3'ou 
 I never was an actor upon any stage. I acknowledge I 
 have sung songs ; I was once pronounced a good singer ; 
 yet I do not recollect that I ever sang any bad songs. 
 Indeed, I liave been so long out of the habit of song-sing- 
 ing, that I do not remember what songs I have sung. I do 
 not, however, admit, that if these charges could be sub- 
 stantiated they ought to criminate me. It cannot be a 
 crime to labor. ' Six da3's shalt thou labor.' The apostle 
 Paul laboi-ed with his own hands. Many of 3'ou are mar- 
 ried men ; many of 3"0U have children ; man}^ in pursuit of 
 business quit, for a season, both wives and children ; and 
 if I had relinquished the stage for the life of a religionist, 
 it should be considered as a testimony in my favor. With 
 regard to song-singing, while music makes a part even of 
 divine worship, a sentimental song could not be supposed 
 detrimental to the interests of morality." I requested to 
 know if there were any other charges ; and was answered 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOH^ MUHJiAY. 257 
 
 with a murmur of applause, " None, sir, none." The tide 
 no^\' turned in my favor, and the people were astonished 
 that they had annexed the smallest consequence to those 
 reports. 
 
 I had now in Newport a very respectable circle of 
 friends, and the occurrence, thus briefly recorded, aug- 
 mented their affectionate attentions. As a testimony how 
 little they regarded it, they made a party to go out in a 
 number of carriages, and pass the daj^ upon the island ; 
 and most delightfully did we enjoy ourselves. We left 
 town in the midst of the tumult. But those who were 
 present at the examination, mingling with their fellow-citi- 
 zens, gave them an account of what had passed, and it 
 was generally considered as a plan to bar their pulpit 
 against me ; this irritated them, and the}^ determined it 
 should not succeed. They despatched a message to me. 
 I could not be found. I returned in the evening and re- 
 ceived, by the sexton of Doctor Stiles' meeting, an address 
 signed by a large number of influential characters, ear- 
 nestly requesting I would, upon that evening, deliver a 
 lecture. I consented. The bell announced my consent. 
 The congregation assembled, and the house was very full. 
 I selected my subject from Isaiah: "Who hath believed 
 our report?" I was divinely supported. My heart was 
 very full. Gratitude glowed in my bosom, gratitude to 
 that Being, who had upon this as well as upon many former 
 occasions so conspicuously appeared for me. 
 
 Among other valuable acquisitions which crowned my 
 
 labors in Newport was the friendship of Mr., afterwards 
 
 General, Varnum, who gave me, upon the succeeding 
 
 morning, a letter to Mr. N. Brown, of Providence, for 
 
 which place I departed. Mr. Brown received me with 
 17 
 
258 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 much civilit}', and distinguished me b}" many acts of kind- 
 ness. The Rev. Mr. Snow's meeting-house was thrown 
 open. The congregations in Providence were large. I ac- 
 quired many respectable friends, and my visit was truh' 
 pleasing. I contemplated extending my tour as far as 
 Boston ; but, the season being far advanced, I postponed 
 my purpose, and hastened back to my pleasant home. 
 Visiting mj friends upon the road, I did not reach the 
 dwelling of my patron until the winter was at the door. 
 This enduring friend began to fear he should eventually 
 lose me. And, in truth, the pressing calls made upon me 
 allow^ed me but little leisure to tarr}^ with him. In the 
 course of this winter I made man}' visits. But my little 
 stock of mone}- was nearl}' exhausted. Had I consented 
 to the mode of collecting then in practice, such was the 
 zeal of my hearers that I might have amassed large sums. 
 But I had no famil3\ I did not want mone3^ I believed 
 I should be less obnoxious as a preacher, if I levied no 
 taxes upon the people ; and I was ambitious of being able 
 to ask, " Whose ox or whose ass have I taken?" Still, as 
 I proceeded, the rancor of the clergy pursued me. This 
 pained me to the soul, and I have passed many agonized 
 hours originating from this inveterate source. I, however, 
 veiled those scenes of sorrow from the eye of the man}-. 
 In fact, when engaged in conversation, I so unreservedly 
 enjoyed my friends, that I ceased for the time being to re- 
 flect upon my enemies or their enmity. I never left homo 
 without increasing both the number of my friends and my 
 enemies ; and thej^ were, individuall}^ and collective!}-, 
 very much in earnest, while every attempt to oppose the 
 progress of truth became, in the hand of God, subservient 
 to the purpose of opening the eyes of the people. 
 
LIFE OF BEV. JOHN MURRAY. 2p9 
 
 I think it was in the Januaiy of 1773 that a most im- 
 portunate solicitation drew me to Philadelpliia ; and, hav- 
 ing frequently visited that cit}', I had man}' opportunities 
 with strangers collected there. Many bore with them to 
 their respective homes such an account of m}^ doctrine 
 and my manner as excited much curiosit}'. I was re- 
 peatedly and earnestly urged to proceed to Maryland. An 
 eminent ph\'sician, b}' repeated letters, reiterated his solici- 
 tatioi-: A sense of dut}' imperiously insisted upon my 
 accepting every invitation of the kind to the extent of my 
 power, and I consequently determined upon an immediate 
 commencement of m}^ journey to Maryland. Accordinglj- 
 my horse was produced at the door, when it occurred to me 
 that I had no mone}^ "Well, and what then?" said I. 
 *' You will not think of a journe}^ in such circumstances?" 
 said cold-hearted Prudence. "I certainly will." — "But 
 how are you to get through a strange countr}^ in which you 
 have no acquaintance? " — " For shame ! is this a time for 
 these remarks? Do j^ou not know that God Almighty can 
 at all times, and in every place, open the heart? And 
 that, if he be disposed to do anything with me, or by me, 
 he will most assuredly bring me on my way?" — "But had 
 you not better let your friends in this city know your cir- 
 cumstances? They will unquestionably make provision 
 for 5'ou." — "But this would be leaning upon an arm of 
 flesh ; it would be making provision for myself." — "What 
 will you do at the first stage? You will not be able to 
 purchase anything either for 3'ourself or 3'our horse." — 
 " If I meet with no support, I will return immediately ; by 
 this I shall know if it be the will of God I should pro- 
 ceed." — "And will you realh^ go on in this waj'?" — 
 ^'Most assuredl3\" And I was on the point of mounting 
 
260 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MCRRAY. 
 
 my horse, when a gentleman crossed the street. ''Are yon 
 going out of town, sir?" — ^' Yes, sir." — "How far, pray? 
 Which wa}^?" — *' To Maryland, sir, to visit a place, which, 
 as 1 am told, is eighty miles from this city." — "Are j^ou 
 going alone, sh'?" — "I am, sir." — "I wish I had known 
 of your determination one hour since, I would certainly 
 have accompanied 3'ou part of tht; way." — "Well, sir, you 
 can do that now ; if you please, I will wait an hour." — 
 "Will you? Then I will get ready as soon as possible." 
 The gentleman was punctual. In less than an hour he 
 was on horseback, and we commenced our journey to- 
 gether. We passed on to Chester, delighted with our ride, 
 and dined luxuriantly at one of the best inns in the 
 country. Here I expected my fellow-traveller would quit 
 me. And prudence again questioned : " Will jou not 
 either return or make known 3'our situation?" — "I will 
 do neither. I will trust in the Lord, and sta}^ upon the 
 God of my salvation." Our horses were ordered out ; 
 again we proceeded together^ and our conversation was 
 interesting, animated, delightful. In the middle of the 
 afternoon, we made a second stage. " Here," said m}^ 
 companion, " I had determined to leave you, but I find I 
 am not able ; I must proceed." We went on until evening 
 when we put up at the house of a friend of my fellow- 
 traveller, in Newark. This town contained an academ}'^, 
 in the hall of which I afterwards preached. We spent the 
 night most agreeabl}^ ; and, although I expected to pursue 
 the residue of my journey' alone, my slumbers were un- 
 broken through the night, and I arose happy in the 
 thought that I was enabled to cast m}^ care upon God. 
 Here, m}' friend, after commending me to the protection 
 of Heaven, bade me adieu. I tarried until breakfast was 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 261 
 
 over, when I requested m}' horse : it was brought to the 
 door. I took the bridle in m}' hand. Prudence again was 
 read}^ with her expostulations. '' Well, and what are you to 
 do now? You have been thus far brought on by an obliging 
 friend ; 3'ou have fifty miles more to ride, through a coun-. 
 tr}', not an individual in which 3^ou have ever seen, and you 
 have not ix penny in your pocket. ^^ Again, I say, "Am I not 
 here, as in Philadelphia, under the care of that beneficent 
 Being who holds the universe in his hands? I will go on." 
 Just as I raised my foot to the stirrup, the master of the 
 house appeared. " One word, sir, if you please ; step in for 
 a moment." I once more entered the hospitable dwelling. 
 "You will, I hope, excuse me, sir; but, ever since I left 
 my bed this morning, I have been strongly excited to do 
 what, however, I am afraid to mention, and what I had 
 concluded I would not venture to do. But when I saw 3'ou 
 in the act of mounting j^our horse, I could no longer with- 
 stand an irresistible impression, which impels me to ask 
 your acceptance of this trifle ; " putting into ni}' hands 
 abundantl}^ sufficient to bring me to the end of my journey. 
 *' You ma}^ not want this, sir ; but you may meet with some 
 individual who does." Could my spirit, at this moment, 
 forbear ecstatic prostration before the throne of my God 
 and Father? This was manifestly another instance of the 
 interposition of my divine Master. It was he who has the 
 hearts of all in his hand, that had thus disposed the heart 
 of this man. I could not forbear felicitating him on being 
 appointed to distribute. I communicated to him my real 
 circumstances, while tears of pleasure gushed into his eyes. 
 He would then have made an addition to the gratuity ; but 
 this I resolutely refused. I had enough for m}^ present 
 purpose, and more than enough would have been burden- 
 
262 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 some. I went on from this place, with inexpressible de- 
 light, my soul warmly disposed to magnif}^ the Lord, and 
 to trust him at all times, not being afraid. My faith bj' 
 these manifestations thus invigorated and renewed, I 
 rejoiced in the good . pleasure of m}^ God; m}' way was 
 made clear before me, and I nothing doubted that my jour- 
 ney would be crowned with success. This day was indeed 
 a happ3^ day. I shall certainly never, so long as memory 
 shall continue its office, recur to it without the most pleas- 
 urable emotions. 
 
 Upon the evening of this memorable day I arrived at the 
 end of my journey, and I was received by the phj^sician, 
 whose letter of earnest solicitation had brought me thus far, 
 with man}^ demonstrations of joy. I was, however, greatly 
 surprised to find a person, who I understood was master of 
 a large fortune, plain, if not penurious, both in his house, 
 furniture, and apparel ; but, if I was disappointed by the 
 appearance of the man and his dwelling, I was abundantly 
 more so by his conversation, from which I learned that he 
 had been imposed upon b}' the accounts he had received of 
 me. He had been made to believe I was, for matter and 
 manner, a second Whitefield. My heart sunk, as I re- 
 flected what I had to expect from a gentleman thus cir- 
 cumstanced. I beheld before me a self-righteous Cal- 
 vinist ; and I believed, when he discovered (as I was 
 determined he immediately should) the auiount of m}^ testi- 
 mon}' , he would sincerely repent that he had summoned me 
 to his abode, and that 1 should, in consequence, have much 
 to suffer. The house aff^orded no spare bed, and, of course, 
 I lodged, I cannot say slept, with my host. The whole 
 niijht was devoted to conversation, and I embraced the first 
 pause to inform him, that I once viewed the Deity, and the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 263 
 
 creature man, preciselj^ as they now appeared to him ; but 
 that a complete revolution had been wrought in my mind. 
 " Sir, I once believed the faithful Creator had called into 
 existence by far the greatest number of human beings, with 
 no other intention than to consign them to endless misery, 
 rescuing onlj- a few respected persons from a state of sin 
 and suffering. You will, my dear sir, probably regret that 
 you have invited me hither, when I inform you that the 
 Christ in whom I trust, and the gospel which I preach, is not 
 the Christ of whom yoxx expected to hear, nor the gospel 3'ou 
 supposed I should preach. The Christ in whom I formerly 
 confided was a partial Saviour ; but the Christ in whom I 
 now trust is the Saviour of the world. The gospel 3'ou 
 have been accustomed to hear, and which 3'ou expected T 
 should preach, is a partial gospel, convening the glad 
 tidings of eternal life in Christ Jesus only to an elected few. 
 The gospel I preach is glad tidings to every individual of 
 the human race ; assuring them that in Christ, the promised 
 seed, all the nations, all the families of the earth shall be 
 blessed. I fear, sir, that not being accustomed to the minis- 
 try of the reconciliation, committed to the apostles, to wit, 
 that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, 
 not imputing unto them their trespasses ; that, when all man- 
 kind like sheep had gone astray, the Lord, the offended God, 
 laid upon Jesus the iniquities of us all, that he might put 
 them away b}' the sacrifice of himself, thatthe}^ might thus, 
 as a millstone, be cast into the depths of the sea, and be found 
 no more at all ; that Jesus, thus performing the will of God, 
 the world may ultimately behold him in his true character, 
 as the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world ; 
 thus becoming the Saviour of all men, — not i?i, but from 
 their sins ; — I fear, my good sir, that when you hear me 
 
264 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 thus preaching the gospel, which God himself preached to 
 Abraham, and which he testified by the mouth of all his 
 holy prophets ever since the world began, your disappoint- 
 ment will be grievous. I know, sir, you have not been ac- 
 customed to hear of Universal Love, of boundless compas- 
 sion ; and these sounds may make \o\i as angr}^ as the}' 
 have made man}' of our brethren in every age." Here I 
 made a full pause, continuing for a few moments in painful 
 suspense. I was, however, soon relieved. "No, sir, you 
 have nothing to fear from me ; for although the things of 
 which you speak have never entered into m}' head or heart, 
 yet give me leave to assure 3'ou, it will never give me pain 
 to know that God's w^ays are not as my ways, nor his 
 thoughts as my thoughts. My mind is so far from revolt- 
 ing at the tidings 3'ou bear, that nothing would give me 
 more unutterable joy than to be assured of their truth." 
 Thus was m}' mind exonerated from a weight of dread ap- 
 prehension. I asked him what assurance he could either 
 wish for or expect? ''^ Nothing more than a 'Thus saith 
 the Lord.' " I continued, through the residue of the 
 night, preaching the gospel, according to the Scriptures ; 
 and it pleased Almighty God so to furnish my mind with 
 testimonies drawn from the sacred volume, that I went on, 
 from Genesis to Revelation, until the morning dawned 
 upon us. But a brighter morning dawned upon the long- 
 benighted mind of my wondering hearer; he exhibited, 
 what he said he experienced, rapture before unknown. He 
 was, indeed, as one brought out of darkness into marvel- 
 lous light, and from the power of Satan unto God. I never 
 before saw so great a change wrought in so short a time. 
 He gave me a sketch of his life, which had been emplo3'ed 
 in seeking to accumulate riches and righteousness. The 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 265 
 
 former he bad gained, but the latter be bad not ; and be 
 was constrained to confess tbat if tbe wealtb be bad taken 
 sucb unwearied pains to obtain and to keep were no better 
 in tbe sigbt of man than his righteousness was in his own 
 estimation, and in the estimation of bis God, be had been 
 all his life laboring in vain, and spending bis strength for 
 nought. By commerce, and the practice of physic, tbe 
 doctor bad acquired a fortune of forty thousand pounds 
 sterling ; yet from tbe appearance of tbe man, we should 
 have concluded bis resources extremely limited. His 
 offspring were onh^ one son and one daughter ; bis wife was 
 no more ; bis son a prodigal ; his daughter, a married wo- 
 man, in eligible circumstances, and of a most amiable 
 character. The doctor was far advanced in life, and al- 
 though be- had been uniforml}^ employed in getting and 
 hiding money, 3'et be was so religious a man as to part with 
 four hundred pounds sterling toward building a meeting- 
 bouse ; and he was greatl}^ mortified, at not being able to 
 obtain permission for me to preach therein, though he went 
 so far as to assure those who had the care of the house, 
 tbat he would put it in complete repair, if he might be in- 
 dulged with the pleasure of bearing w-bom he pleased in the 
 pulpit, when it was not otherwise occupied. But the Pres- 
 bytery had given orders tbat no person should be admitted 
 into any of their meetings without a letter of license, first 
 bad and obtained from that body. " So," said the doctor, 
 '' let God send b}^ whom he will send, the sent of God can 
 obtain no admission ; but those whom the Presbytery think 
 proper to send must be admitted ever3^where ! Is not this 
 Y2ix\k priestcraftV But although tbe doors of ever}^ house 
 of worship in that neighborhood w^ere shut against us, many 
 private houses were devoted to us, and the doctor was inde- 
 
266 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 fiitigable in striving to spread abroad the savor of the Re- 
 deemer's name. His soul was so highly wrought by the dis- 
 coveries he had made, that he most ardently desired to make 
 all men acquainted with the grace in which they stood. 
 
 The doctor was a man of uncommon abilities ; his mind 
 was highly cultivated ; I never knew a finer speaker. He 
 was well acquainted with the religion of the world, and 
 possessing a happy facility of manifesting his knowledge, 
 when it pleased God to show him his salvation, — when he 
 had power given him to believe with his heart the word of 
 God, which giveth life unto all men, — from the abun- 
 dance of his believing heart, his mouth became full of the 
 praises of his God ; and wherever he went, so often as 
 opportunity offered, he delighted to magnify the name of 
 the Redeemer ; spreading far and wide, to the utmost of his 
 abilities, the truth as it is in Jesus, the glad tidings of the 
 gospel. Ever^^body who knew the man was astonished ; 
 for, strange to tell, he became liberal, — liberal of that with 
 which he had heretofore found it so difficult to part ; he 
 could part with his money ; and, among numerous instances 
 of his generosity, I myself was an example. He saw my 
 vestments were rather worn, — they could not last always, — 
 and he ordered me a complete suit of superfine broadcloth. 
 I looked at the doctor, at his garments much worse than mine. 
 '' I am reall}' astonished," said I. " Not more than I am my- 
 self, sir. I have for a whole year been perfectly aware that 
 I wanted raiment, yet I could not find it in my heart to 
 purchase even those articles of which I stood in most need ; 
 but, sir, I do indeed behold my former self with detesta- 
 tion." I continued with the doctor for several weeks. He 
 accompanied me from place to place, enjoying abundantly 
 more than tlie world could give or take away ; and his 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 267 
 
 numerous connexions were partakers of his felicity. For 
 mj'self, I bad rich opportunities of preaching the gospel of 
 the kingdom, and my pleasures were proportioned to the 
 satisfaction which I was instrumental in communicating ; 
 but it became necessar}^ I should return to Philadelphia, 
 and the doctor was exceedingl}' affected ; j^et, previous to 
 my final departure, I had engaged to preach at an Episco- 
 palian church at some distance, where it was believed a 
 large concourse of people would be assembled. But on 
 Saturday evening, the wind being north-west brought on 
 so severe a frost, that the ensuing da}^, Sunda}'^, February 
 14, 1773, w^as by far the coldest day I had ever experi- 
 enced. 
 
 I was, however, determined to keep my appointment, 
 and I rode six miles on horseback, accompanied by a gen- 
 tleman who had conceived for me the strongest affection ; 
 and we derived so much pleasure from the divine subjects 
 which engaged our attention, that we hardl}- adverted either 
 to the severity of the day or the distance ; and my fellow- 
 traveller, in the fulness of his heart, declared, did it depend 
 upon him, we would ride on till the close of time, and then 
 leap into eternit}' together. The cold, however, was suffi- 
 cienth' piercing to compel us to assemble in the school- 
 house instead of the church, where a large chimney and a 
 blazing, hearth hardly kept us from freezing ; yet was my 
 own heart, and the hearts of man}- of m}^ hearers, warmed 
 b}' that fire of divine love enkindled by the word and spirit 
 of our God ; which spirit graciously vouchsafed to take of 
 the things qf Jesus and show them unto us, giving us not 
 onl}^ peace, but joy, unspeakable joy, in believing. I pro-^ 
 posed departing for Philadelphia on the following Monday ; 
 but the doctor and his friends prevailed upon me to tarrjr 
 
268 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 a day or two longer, in which time he labored hard to per- 
 suade me to continue with him. " Only," said he, " con- 
 sent to abide here, and I will very cheerfully build for you 
 as handsome a church as an}" in the countr}', and it shall 
 be your own. I will devote ten of the fort}' thousand 
 pounds which I possess to this purpose. T thanked him 
 most cordially for his flattering offer ; but added that the 
 tender of his whole estate would be no temptation to 
 me to accept a permanent residence. My mind was at 
 that time solemnly impressed by a conviction that I was 
 sent put to preach the gospel ; and that, as the servant of 
 God, I must neither loiter by the way, nor seek to evade 
 the spirit of my commission. An imposing sense of duty 
 •compelled me to say that, so long as I was able, I would 
 submit to the will of my Master. Upon the night previous 
 to my departure we had little sleep. We expatiated with 
 pleasing wonder upon the mysterious ways of Heaven, and 
 we poured out our souls in prayer to that God, who, having 
 brought us together, had caused us to drink into one spirit. 
 The morning came, when, after commending ourselves to 
 God and to the word of his grace, I was on the point of 
 depnrting, in the same manner I had left Philadelphia, yet 
 without even the vestige of apprehension. But the doctor, 
 taking me by the hand, essayed to articulate ; but was 
 necessitated to pause for self-possession, when he said, 
 ^'God forever bless you, and be with you, and wherever 
 you go make your way plain before you ; and, if we never 
 meet again in this world (for I am an old man, you know), 
 I rejoice in the assurance that we shall meet in the presence 
 of God, our Saviour, and spend an eternity together.*' He 
 then put into my hand gold sufficient, abundantly sufficient, 
 to bear my expenses even to the dwelling of my patron. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 269' 
 
 "You may want this upon the road," said he ; " take this 
 as a memento of friendship." — '* I am, dear sir, amazed at 
 your liberalit}'." — " I, also, am amazed. It is the Lord's 
 doings, and truly it is marvellous in my eyes." Thus 
 closed my visit to m}- worth}' friend, after I had promised 
 that, should it please God, I would cheerfully visit him 
 again. 
 
 On ray return, being earnestly solicited, I preached in 
 the hall of the academy at Newark ; and I once more 
 reposed under the roof of that hospitable man, who was 
 made the instrument of administering to my necessities on 
 my waj^ At Wilmington, too, I delivered my message ; 
 and, elevated by an excursion which had been so greatly 
 blessed, I returned to Philadelphia in perfect health and 
 high spirits. During the residue of the spring, the whole 
 of the succeeding summer, and a part of the autumn, until 
 October, 1773, m}^ time was divided between Pennsylvania, 
 the Jerseys, and New York. My friends were to be found 
 among every class of people, from the highest to the most 
 humble, and almost every day increased the number both 
 of my friends and enemies. The clergy continued a pha- 
 lanx of opposition. One good man stumbled upon a most 
 ingenious device. A Mr. Still, a Baptist priest, wrote a 
 most elaborate letter, in which he charged me with many 
 crimes, assuming as facts those reported crimes^ which my 
 soul abhorred. This letter he read in every company in 
 which he mixed ; sent copies of it to New England, and 
 various other parts of the country ; giving those to whom 
 he made his communications to understand that he had 
 forwarded this letter to me, although / never saiv it, and 
 was indebted for an account of its contents to some worth}' 
 individuals, who were among the number of those to whom 
 
270 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 it was read. Thus did this man industriou«l3" essay to 
 prejudice the minds of tlie people, trusting that their hatred 
 of me and my testimony would, if possible, be commensu- 
 rate with his own ; and thus, at his righteous tribunal, I was 
 tried and condemned, and, as far as he could prevail, exe- 
 cuted, without being suffered to plead in my own defence, 
 or even furnished with a copy of the allegations against me. 
 Had I not reason to supplicate, "Grant me, O my God! 
 patient resignation, and the divine light of th}" countenance" ? 
 Yet the character, priest and adversar}", did not always 
 prove synonymous. A clerg3'man, upon a memorable even- 
 ing, entered a house of public worship in which I was 
 promulgating the truth as it was in Jesus. He presented 
 himself with a determination to oppose me ; but, quitting 
 the church and entering mj- lodgings, he folded me in his arms, 
 •exclaiming (while his eye glistened with pleasure), " If this 
 be heres}', may I so worship the God of m}^ fathers during 
 the residue of mj'' da3's." Nor was this a solitar}^ instance ; 
 Mr. Duchee,* minister of the established church of Phila- 
 
 * We have recently seen an anecdote of Rev. Mr. Duchee, published in the 
 " Philadelphia Liberalist," of Nov. 24, 1832. It occurs in an obituary notice of 
 Mr. Anthony Cuthbert, one of the early Universalists of that city. 
 
 " Parson Duchee, of the Episcopal church, was an intimate acquaintance and 
 friend of Mr. C.'s father, and often visited him. They held frequent conferences 
 in a private room; and it was a considerable time before Mr. C. could ascertain 
 the object they had in view. He at length, in the absence of his father, entered 
 the apartment to which they so frequently retired, and found on the table Paul 
 Siegvolck's ' Everlasting Gospel ' (an edition of which had been printed at Ger- 
 mantown, in 1753, by Christopher Sower, and, as was supposed, at the suggestion 
 of Dr. George De Renneville). Mr. C. subsequently learned from his father, 
 that Mr. Duchee and himself entertained no doubt of the truth of the doctrine 
 maintained by Siegvolck ; but they thought the time had not then arrived for 
 the public proclamation of the sentiment. Mr. C. thought differeutly; and, on 
 all suitable occasions, expressed his belief in the final reconciliation of all tilings 
 to the dominion of love. 
 
 " It is more than probable that Mr. C. was one of the hearers and friends of 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 271 
 
 delpliia, Mr. Tretard, of New Rochelle. Mr. Gano of New 
 York, Mr. T3'ler,* Episcopalian minister of Norwich, were 
 among the number of those, who, if they were not full}' with 
 me in sentiment, have uniforml}' discharged toward me the 
 dut}' of Christian friends. Mj' opportunities of observing 
 uncommon characters were multiplied. I regret that the 
 limits I have prescribed to myself will not permit me to 
 dwell upon the life and virtues of Thomas Sa\', of Philadel- 
 phia ; a man who, it may be said, revisited this world, after 
 being privileged with more than a bird's-eye view of 
 another.! Anthony Benezet might also claim many pages. J 
 Christopher Marshall ; the celebrated Mrs. Wright, and 
 her uncommon family ; many shades of departed friends 
 
 John Murray, on the first arrival in Philadelphia of that eminent servant of 
 the Lord, in 1772 or '73." — T. W. 
 
 * Rev. John Tyler. He continued until his death pastor of the church in Nor- 
 wich, (Conn.). He published anonymously six discourses in favor of Mr. Murray's 
 sentiments, entitled " Universal Damnation and Salvation clearly proved by the 
 Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments." They form a very interesting de- 
 fence of Universalism, upon the Rellyan principles. — Mod. Hist. Universatism, 
 p.358. — T. ^V. 
 
 t Thomas Say was a Universalist. — See his Life, written by his son, Phil., 
 1796, pp. 5, 44, 93, 94, 105, and others. He was a highly benevolent, and, in other 
 respects, good man, but of a visionary mind. "When a young man he supposed 
 himself to have had a trance, in whicli he visited the abode of the blessed on 
 high, but was not permitted to remain. A full account is given of this in the 
 book to which we have referred, with the proofs to which, if any one has a desire 
 to examine the subject, I direct his attention. — T. W. 
 
 JMr. Murray had reason to congratulate himself on the acquaintance and 
 friendship of Benezet. He was a citizen of Philadelphia, and an eminently good 
 man. His life was spent in the education of youth. He was author of a " Cau- 
 tion to Great Britain and her Colonies," 1767, " An Historical Account of Guinea, 
 with an Inquiry on the Slave-trade," 1772, 8vo. His whole life was employed in 
 acts of charity, and his death, therefore, was universally lamented. Several 
 hundred negroes attended his funeral; and an American officer, who had been 
 engaged in the continental war, returning from his funeral, exclaimed, " that he 
 had rather be Anthony Benezet, in that coffin, than George Washington \vith all 
 his glory. ' — T. W. 
 
272 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 flit before me, but I must hasten from the now beatified 
 group, and pursue the sometimes rugged path, over which 
 the journey of life hath conducted me. 
 
 Upon the 10th of October, 1773, 1 embarked on board the 
 Humbird, Captain Lawton, for Newport, which place we 
 reached at early breakfast, and where I was received in a 
 manner comporting with my most sanguine wishes. Belcher, 
 Warner, Otis, Newton, Wright, Wanton, Waterhouse, 
 Ellery, etc., etc., these all received me with open arms ; 
 but having reason to believe nluch confusion would result 
 from an attempt to open the doors of the meeting-house in 
 which Dr. Stiles officiated, I sent the doctor an assurance 
 that I would no more enter his pulpit. The governor 
 granted the state-house to the solicitations of my friends, 
 and became himself one of my audience. I preached also 
 in the meeting-house of Mr. Kelly, and at the prison. The 
 congregations were crowded and attentive. 
 
 Newport contains a synagogue, and the many Jews col- 
 lected there pressed to hear. Mr. Lopez, an opulent gen- 
 tleman among the Jews, celebrated as well for humanity as 
 for mercantile knowledge, met me at the door of the state- 
 house, and, pressing my hand, said, " God Almighty be 
 with 3'ou, sir, and bless and preserve 3^ou wherever you go," 
 — giving you good success always, he would have added, 
 but his overflowing heart evidently denied him utterance. 
 The Jews were generall}^ pleased. They declared they had 
 never before heard so much in favor of Christianity. Poor 
 hearts ! They would see the things which belong to their 
 peace, if the appointed time of the Father were come. In 
 this their day are they hidden from their eyes ; but the 
 day of the Lord cometh, when whatever is hidden shall be 
 revealed. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 273 
 
 I was solicited to take up my abode at Newport, and 
 assured, if I would do so, a place of public worship should 
 be erected for my accommodation. These good people 
 learned that I had been necessitated to part with my horse, 
 for the purpose of defraying the expenses attendant upon 
 reprinting specimens of apostolic preaching, selected from 
 the writings of Mr. Relly ; and they insisted upon purchas- 
 ing me another. Nor was this all. They helped me on my 
 waj', contributing abundantly, by private gratuities^ to the 
 relief of my necessities. Mr. Ward, secretary to the then 
 province of Rhode Island, with many others, were, upon 
 this my second visit, added to the number of my friends. 
 A member of Dr. Stiles' church informed me, it was 
 aflSrmed I had absolutely said all men should he saved. I 
 assured him I had never said all men should he saved. I 
 had said Jesus was and is the Saviour of all men ; and that, 
 in the fulness of time, he would gather together all things 
 into ONE, — bringing in his ancient people, the Jews, and 
 with them the fulness of the Gentiles, — causing all flesh to 
 come and worship before him, and making of Jew and Gen- 
 tile ONE new man, so making peace. And that all the 
 kingdoms of the world should become the kingdoms of God 
 and of his Christ. I publicly invited any individual in 
 Newport, who had aught to say against the testimony I 
 delivered, to meet me in an open manner, the Bible in his 
 hand, and if the arguments he should produce were more 
 consistent with the sacred writings, I would, upon the spot, 
 in the most unreserved manner, acknowledge and renounce 
 m}^ errors. 
 
 Quitting Newport, I took passage for East Greenwich. 
 A fellow-passenger told me he had been informed I had 
 said, our sins were laid upon the devil ; and that there was 
 18 
 
274 LIFE OF ItEV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 nothing for us to do ; and be wished to know if I believed 
 either the one or the other. " Certainly not," I replied ; 
 " it was not the devil^ but the Redeemer^ on whom the Lord 
 laid the iniquities of us all.'" I assured him we had man}- 
 things in our various characters to perform, to which it 
 was our bounden duty to attend ; and that those who con- 
 tinued in offences would be experimentally able to saj^ 
 " Trul}^, the way of the transgressor is hard ; " for, 
 assuredly, they would be chastised with many stripes. M}^ 
 appearance at East Greenwich was welcomed by Mr. Var- 
 num and others. Several gentlemen, whom I had not 
 before known, called upon me at Mr. Varnum's. Among 
 these was Mr. Hawkins, who questioned me, and appeared 
 satisfied with my answer. He introduced me to his friends, 
 Mr. Green, etc. I preached in the court-house to a crowded 
 audience. The superior court was then in session ; the 
 judges and the lawyers were among my hearers. I was 
 laboring under great indisposition, but God was with me. 
 Esquire Casey took me to his house, where I was met b}^ 
 Judge Potter for the purpose of conversation. He said he 
 had never been pleased with pulpit exhibitions, because they 
 were so replete with contradictions, and he was determined 
 to sift me thoroughly. We passed the night together. He 
 performed what he had proposed with candor, and appeared 
 satisfied with the result. At parting, he earnestly wished 
 me success, and praj^ed that I might be preserved from the 
 power of the priest and the flatterer. This gentleman con- 
 tinued to evince great affection for me. He seemed to 
 understand and feel the power of the gospel. I had not 
 seen his superior. At this period I was desirous of extend- 
 ing my tour as far as Boston ; but, notwithstanding the 
 repeated manifestations of divine protection with which I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MVJiBAT. 275 
 
 had been favored, a reluctance to venturing, on untried 
 scenes was graduall}- pervading m}' spirit, and I was again 
 read}" to ask, *' What am I to do in Boston ? " Yet I 
 added, " O m}' unbelieving heart, who shall deliver me 
 from this bod}- of sin and death? Blessed be God, ivho is 
 faithful.'' Passing an hour at Mrs. Green's, I was intro- 
 duced to a lady from Boston, a Mrs. Hubbard. She ques- 
 tioned me upon the doctrine of reprobation, particularly 
 that passage which expressly asserts, " Jacob have I loved, 
 and Esau have I hated." My answers were so much to her 
 satisfaction that she gave me a pressing invitation to her 
 house in Boston ; and, as I contemplated a journey thither, 
 she prayed me to take a letter to Mr. Hubbard, and to 
 make his dwelling my abode during my continuance in the 
 metropolis of Massachusetts. From East Greenwich I 
 proceeded to Pawtuxet, delivering my message in their 
 house of worship ; and from thence I repaired to Provi- 
 dence, where I was received, by those who had before bade 
 me welcome, with continued kindness. Immediately on 
 my arrival, a summons to pass the evening with the Rev. 
 Mr. Snow was presented me. I delayed not to attend him, 
 and I was accompanied by Mr. Binney, a young gentleman 
 of great promise. Mr. Snow's parlor was nearly filled by 
 the members of his church and cono;reo:ation. A lonoj and 
 solemn pause succeeded the usual ceremonies of introduc- 
 tion. Mr. Snow at length broke silence by observing, 
 *' We are, sir, perfectly aware, that by far the greater part 
 of the town are anxious to hear you ; and, as our house is 
 the most convenient, we presume application will be made 
 for its use. But since you were last here, a few of our 
 members have heard strange reports respecting you (name- 
 ly). That you believe all mankind will be saved ; and that 
 
276 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the new birth is not in us, hut in Christ. I have, therefore, 
 thought proper to call together several of 1113^ church, that 
 they ma}' have an opportunity of speaking to you, and 
 deternnuing whether the}" think proper to open their doors. 
 Do 3'ou, sir, believe that all mankind will be saved?" — 
 ^'' I believe Jesus Christ is the Saviour of all men; that, hy 
 the grace of God, he tasted death for every man; that he is 
 the propitiation for the sins of the whole world; and that God 
 was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imput- 
 ing unto them their trespasses."" — " Well, and do you 
 believe that all are saved?" — "Not as unbelievers ; the}^ 
 who believe not are damned." — "How, then, ai-e they 
 interested in Jesus? " — "Precisely as they were in the first 
 Adam." — " But all are not interested in Jesus as they 
 were in the first Adam." — "How, then, doth it appear, 
 that as, by the offence of one man, judgment came upon all 
 men to condemnation, so by the righteousness of one, the free 
 gift came upon all men to justification of life? " — " And do 
 you, sir, believe that, in consequence of this, all will be 
 finally happy?" — "Do 3'ou, sir, believe all who learn of 
 the Father will be happ}^? " — " Oh, yes." — " And do you 
 believe all will be taught of God, and come to Jesus and 
 be saved?" — "No, indeed." — "Do ministers in general 
 believe this?" — "No, we know they do not." — "Why, 
 then, do they pray for it? Do they not pray that God 
 would hasten the happy time when he shall bring in his 
 ancient people, the Jews, and with them the fulness of the 
 Gentiles ; that all the kingdoms of the world ma}- become 
 the kingdoms of God and of his Christ ; that thej^ may all 
 be taught of God, from the least unto the greatest? For 
 this, and much more, clergymen repeatedl}' pl'a3^ And can 
 we suppose they are dealing hypocritically with their God? 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 277 
 
 Are the}" such monsters of impiet}' as to solicit, for what 
 ihe}' believe the Almighty had determined, before the 
 foundation of the world, he would never grant?" A pro- 
 found pause succeeded ; after which I was asked, " Do j^ou, 
 sir, believe the New Birth is in us, or in Christ?" — '' He 
 who is horn of God sinneth not. But if ive say we have no 
 sin^ ice deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in ns. He ivho 
 «5 born of God is a new creature. All old things are passed 
 away, and all things are become new. A good man, out of 
 the good treasury of his heart, bringeth not forth good and 
 evil, but good, only good. I conceive, therefore, that to be 
 born again, or, as it may be rendered, to be born anew, or 
 born from above, alludes to the birth of the human famil}^ 
 in the person of Christ Jesus, we being members of his 
 body. Hence the sacred record decidedly pronounces. 
 Created anew in Christ Jesus.'' — "Well, that is Scripture, 
 to be sure." — " Are we Christ Jesus ? " — " No, certainly." 
 — " Then, can being created anew in Christ Jesus be under- 
 stood as being created anew in ourselves?'* A part of the 
 company discovered great bitterness ; others were more 
 calm. I requested them to observe, that, if they reported 
 me as a heretic, thev must remember they smote me through 
 Paul's skirts, for I had delivered no sentiments of my own 
 fabrication. I had merel}' rehearsed in their ears the 
 unadulterated language of revelation I therefore begged 
 I might be honestly reported. 
 
 One gentleman declared that whether I deemed it honest 
 or not, he should report me as a heretic. I then insisted 
 he should declare what heres}^ was. He said I was against 
 the gospel. I requested he would say what gospel was. 
 He replied, " It is whatever is found in the New Testament." 
 I appealed to the company whether this was either fair or 
 
278 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 true ? whether there were not many particulars in the New 
 Testament which were not gospel ? and whether the gospel 
 was not preached to Abraham? or whether the gospel was 
 not God's good sajings or glad tidings to all people? 
 whether I had said an^'thing contrar}^ to this, or proposed 
 any way of salvation beside Christ Jesus? or whether I 
 had privily strove to bring in such a damnable doctrine as 
 to den}' the Lord who bought them? They were all 
 dumb. At length Mr. Snow said, " Well, my friends, 
 you know the reason of m}' calling 3'ou together, and 3'ou 
 can now determine respecting Mr. Murray's again entering 
 our pulpit. I would have you freely deliver your senti- 
 ments." One said the people wished to hear, and there was 
 no house so convenient as theirs ; he could see no reason 
 why I should not preach. Another objected ; his con- 
 science would not allow him to consent. A third remarked 
 the people would go to hear me, preach where I would ; 
 suppose I was wrong, I could not contaminate the house ; 
 for his part he did not see that I had said anything that 
 had been proved erroneous; that he most devouth' 
 blessed God he had been present, for he had received more 
 light than he had ever before erjoyprl ; and many united 
 their acknowledgments with his. I assured them it was 
 my solemn determination to preach nothing but Christ 
 Jesus and him cruclilc'^ ^or every human being. Finally, 
 they determined to open their doors for my reception ; and 
 thus, by permission of minister and people, I again and 
 again addressed a vast multitude from the pulpit of the 
 Rev. Mr. Snow of Providence, and my hearers appeared 
 serious and attentive. 
 
 During ni}' continuance in Providence I became ac- 
 quainted with Doctor Huse, of that place, a ver^- uncommon 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 279 
 
 man, and, as it appeared to me, of a veiy luminous intellect. 
 Bidding me God-speed he added, " Sir, I rejoice that you 
 dare be honest. How long 3'ou will continue so I know no%. 
 At present 3'ou are boldly facing danger, and without 
 fear. Continue, I beseech you, to declare unmixed truth, 
 although all men should be against you." On the 26tli 
 of October, 1773, I took a seat in the stage for Boston. 
 Late upon the evening of that day we reached town. I 
 had a letter from Mrs. Hubbard, and another for a gentle- 
 man, a Major Paddock ; but I was unwilling to disturb 
 strangers at an hour so improper for a first introduction, 
 and the old question recurred, "What are you to do now?'* 
 The passengers one after another were dropped. I remained 
 alone in the coach, and the coachman civill}^ questioned, 
 ''"Where will you be set down, sir?" — " Can 3'ou recom- 
 mend me to a decent tavern?" While he deliberated, a 
 son of Mrs. Hubbard accosted him: " Is Mr. MurrajMn 
 the coach?" — " Yes, sir." He approached the door. 
 " My mother, sir, has written to m}' father respecting you, 
 and we have been looking out for 3'ou with great im- 
 patience." All was immediately settled. And thus I was 
 met in Boston b}' the good providence of God, while my 
 throbbing heart exclaimed, '' To the Lord belongeth mercy ; 
 and praise and thanksgiving are his righteous due." 
 
 B3' Mr. Hubbard I was received with great kindness. He 
 was an innocent, honest man, and his familv were trul3' 
 friendl3\ Upon the ensuing morning I delivered m3" letter 
 to Major Paddock, whose reception of me was such as a 
 stranger ought to expect, coilly civil. He, however, intro- 
 duced me to Mr. Williams, a respectable, philanthropic 
 gentleman, strongl3' attached to the writings of Jacob 
 Behmen. To Mr. Williams I have most gratefull3' to 
 
280 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ackuowledge a series of most important and essential 
 obligations. Measures were soon in train for the purpose 
 of procuring a place in which I might be allowed to deliver 
 ni}^ testimou}' ; but every effort was ineffectual, until the 
 following Saturday, October 30th. In this interval I re- 
 ceived from Mr. Thomas Handas3'de Peck a polite invi- 
 tation to dine. Mr. Peck was a verj' respectable man, and 
 his lady a most valuable woman ; * they were unwearied 
 in contributing, to the utmost of their abilities, to the re- 
 lief of the sons and daughters of sorrow. Ranking among 
 the admirers of Mr. White field, they possessed eminently 
 
 * The acquaintance thus formed with Mr. Peck was the means of advancing 
 Mr. Murray rapidly into notice. That gentleman had been an admirer of Mr. 
 Whitetield, and, hearing of the arrival of Mr. Murray, and of his having been 
 a preacher in "Whitefield's connection, he solicited an interview. Mr. Peck was 
 a warm Christian, of a benevolence easily touched, and ardent in his passions. 
 Mr. Murray related, on his first interview, an account of his lauding at Good 
 Luck, the circumstances of his reception by Potter, and hi.s subsequent labors 
 and sufferings. By tliis narrative, and his entertaining manners, his interest- 
 ing style of preaching, and the benevolent doctrine he tauglit, he completely 
 captivated the family, and made them his steadfast friends. 
 
 Tho.mas H.\nd.\syde Pecr was a gentleman of great integrity and respect- 
 ability, and was the maternal grandfather of our present distinguished citizen, 
 Thomas Handasyde Perkins. He and his wife wera both natives of England; 
 but on the breaking out of the political difficulties between Great liritain and 
 her colonic-;, he espoused, and of course with great ardor, thecau.-e of the latter. 
 Both Mr. Peck and his wife died in the early part of the Revolution. The house 
 in which he resided, and in which Mr. Murray preached, was on the left-hand 
 side of 31erchants' Row as you pass from State Street to the market. On the 
 western corner of State Street and Merchants' Row stood the Golden Ball 
 Tavern, near which, going on toward the market, a person would come to a 
 court called Peck's Court; and at the head of this court stood the mansion of 
 the hospitable Thomas H. Peck. He had been a hatter by occupation, and was 
 familiarly known by the title of " Honest Peck, the hatter." The whigs were 
 proud of him, and this title was bestowed upon him in a ballad, published in 
 the midst of the political troubles. 
 
 We take the liberty here to give publication to the following letter from 
 Hon. Thomas H. Perkins, which with equal readiness and urbanity he furnished 
 in reply to certain queries addressed to him. We trust lie will excuse the use 
 
LIFE OF ItEV. JOHX MUJiRAT, 281 
 
 the characteristic of his adherents, — they were abundantly 
 less bigoted than other religionists. In the agreeable 
 
 we have made of his name, and accept of this insuflScient acknowledgment of 
 
 his kindness. 
 
 " Boston, March 16, 1833. 
 *' Mr. Thomas Whittemore, — 
 
 " Sir : Your letter of the 14th current was received on the day it was written, 
 but I could not answer it understandingly witliout consulting my sister, Mrs. 
 Sturgis, who lived nearer to the time and circumstances respecting which you 
 inquire. My own recollections are fresh on the subject of the intimacy of the 
 late Rev. John Murray in the family of my maternal grandfather, but T am not 
 quite sure whether my recollection carries me to the year before what was 
 called The Siege, or to the year '76, when it was raised. My sister says slie 
 recollects the intimacy of Mr. 3Iurray in the family of Mr Peck, as early as 
 1773, being the year she was married, and from which incident she is enabled to 
 establish the date. She tells me that both our grandparents, and eur own 
 parents, professed the religious principles at that time held by 3rr. Murray, and 
 that they all died adhering to that belief. My grandparents died the summer 
 of 1776 and 1777. Mr. Peck died first. His residence at his death, and for many 
 years preceding, was in a house which stood in a square, approaclied by a court 
 leading from Merchants' Row. At the corner of this court was the Golden Ball 
 Tavern, which at that time was kept by Colonel Marston, who afterwards kept 
 the Bunch of Grapes in State Street, Both those houses have long since been 
 taken down to make room tor improvements. I well remember that my grand- 
 father permitted 3Ir. Murray to preach in the meeting-house, then standing in 
 School Street, and that there were occasional contests between the supporters 
 of Mr. Murray, and those who opposed him; and that the preacher was at one 
 time assailed not only by vehement speeches, but more solid arguments. 
 
 ** I was too young to be able to judge correctly of the characters of those who 
 are the subject of this letter. The temper of my grandfather was irascible and 
 rather morose; but lie was always esteemed for liis integrity. He was born in 
 England, as was his wife ; but before and during the troubles, as they were called, 
 he sided with, and was considered an ultra whig. He remained in town during 
 the whole time of the occupancy of it by the British, and, notwithstanding his 
 politics, was well treated both by the governor and military men. 
 
 " My grandmother has left a high character for piety, and great liberality to- 
 ward Jill to whom she could alford aid, either in money or personal kindness, for 
 both which there was a great demand during the blockade of Boston. My own 
 mother lives in the memory of many now living; and the recollection of her 
 many virtues is cherished by her descendants. One of the last conversations 
 she had on any subject was the day previous to her death, with my wife; and in 
 the course of it she repeated, what she had often before testified, her belief in the 
 doctrine of universal salvation. Respectfully your obedient servant, 
 
 "T. H. Pekkixs." 
 T. W. 
 
282 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MUBRAY. 
 
 family of Mr. Peck, I passed a most delightful day. I re- 
 lated to them the manner of my coming to the house of my 
 patron, and I sketched for them the dealings of God with 
 me since he had called me forth. They listened with silent 
 astonishment ; and when I had finished they praised God 
 in my behalf. They were evidently pained that I could 
 not obtain a place in which to preach ; and they added, if 
 no other could be procured, they would open their own 
 doors for this purpose. There were in Boston, at this 
 period, a few individuals who were immeasurabl}' attached 
 to the writings of Jacob Behmen. Those persons looked 
 down with pity on all those they had left behind, who were 
 such infidels as not to ascribe honor and glor}' to the in- 
 spired pages of this writer. I could not forbear experi 
 encing great satisfaction from the consideration that Jesu& 
 Christ was made unto me ivisdom. The adherents of 
 Behmen enjoyed their philosophical divinity very highly,, 
 delighting to wrap themselves about in a mysterious gar- 
 ment of unintelligible jargon. But thus it must ever be. 
 Error will prevail until the appointed time of the Father 
 shall usher the benighted mind into the clear shining of 
 the full meridian of Divine Revelation. 
 
 At the house of Major Paddock 1 met a member of Mr. 
 Stillman*s church, who seemed to conceive there would be 
 little difficulty in overthrowing my plan ; to whom I ob- 
 served, that if an}' individual would unite with me in search- 
 ing the Scriptures, I would, supposing there were not found 
 in the book of God more positive assertions of final and 
 universal redemption than of final reprobation, pledge m}'- 
 self immediatel}^ to surrender m}^ present soul-satisfying 
 views. " No one," he replied, " could take i^leasure in the 
 df.struction of mankind." — '' Wh}^ do not you, sir?" — 
 
\ 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 283 
 
 " No, sir." — '• Wh\', sir?" — '• I wonder 3'ou should ask such 
 a question." — '" Wh}-, sir, why should you not take pleasure 
 in that in which God takes pleasure?" — "God does not 
 take pleasure in destruction, sir." — " What, sir, and make 
 individuals on purpose to destroy them ? and almighty too, 
 — ruling in heaven above and in earth beneath, as seemeth 
 in his sight good ? Do you dare sa}', if you had powei-, no 
 fellow-creature should be lost ; and dare 3'ou suppose that 
 He who hath all power, both in heaven and in earth, hath 
 not so much love as you, a finite being? "Will he say to 
 you, ' Love your enemies, do good to those who hate 3'ou, 
 and pray for those who despitefully use you,' — and will 
 he not do likewise? Shall the disciple be above his Master, 
 and the servant above his Lord ? " He answered with a sigh, 
 " I cannot argue with you, sir ; that last observation has 
 weight." — '• Ah, sir ! " I continued, '' would that every indi- 
 vidual were more intimatel}' acquainted with that most ele- 
 vating subject, the love of God to man, the never-beginning, 
 never-ending love of God to man. This, sir, is a species 
 of knowledge which doth not puff up ; but it lifts up as on 
 eagles' wings, ever mounting, never tiring, but still dis- 
 covering new wonders through the wasteless ages of eter- 
 nit}'. But man, poor fallen man, who in his present state 
 is enmity against God, is ever measuring the love and com- 
 passion of Deit}^ by his own scantjTule ; na3',by a rule which 
 he would blush to acknowledge. I have frequentl3' said that 
 there is not a person of character upon this continent who 
 would bear to be delineated, whatever character he sustains, 
 as he thinks and speaks of the Most High. What father 
 would choose to be supposed deficient in providing, to the 
 extent of his power, ever3' requisite aid to the beings he 
 has been instrumental in introducinsr into existence? It is- 
 
^84 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 •confessed by all that God is Almighty, that he is a sover- 
 eign, that he can do, and will do, as he pleases, and that no 
 power can resist his will. It is also said that he willeth 
 not the death, the eternal death of the sinner ; that he will- 
 eth that man should be saved ; that he hath appointed, and 
 therefore sends out his servants to warn mankind, to call 
 them to eternal blessedness, to persuade them to come.; 
 that all things are now ready. All this looks like love in 
 God. But we are informed, the people called have no 
 knowledge of God ; that they are enmity against God, and 
 that not from a persuasion that God was in Christ, recon 
 ciling them to himself, but because they do not know this, 
 and therefore do not believe it ; that no man can come 
 unto the Father but b}^ Jesus ; that no man can come 
 unto Jesus except the Father draw him ; and that all who 
 learn of the Father come unto Jesus ; and all who come 
 unto him he will in no wise cast out. Are multitudes cast 
 out forever? Then it is because the}^ were not taught 
 of God ; for if they had learned of the Father the}' would 
 have come unto Jesus, and he would in no wise have cast 
 them out. But did God attempt to teach them, and, finding 
 it beyond his power, did he finally give them up ? But is 
 not God almighty ? Yes ; but lie did not choose to stretch 
 forth his omnipotent arm. Why? Because if he had the}' 
 must be saved, and he would leave thein to the freedom of 
 their own will. Did he not know the consequence would 
 be their eternal damnation? Oh, yes, but this is perfectly 
 right ; for when he called they would not hear. Did he in- 
 tend they should hear? We have nothing to do with that. 
 Merciful God ! lift up the light of thy irradiating counte- 
 nance upon the benighted family of man." 
 
 Upon the evening of October 30, 1773, I preached for 
 
LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURRAY. 285" 
 
 the first time in Boston, in the hall of the factory.* My 
 hearers were attentive, and, after I had closed, several in~ 
 dividuals addressed me, and with apparent kindness in- 
 vited me to visit them at their houses. On the succeeding 
 evening (Sunday) I again preached in the hall ; the con- 
 gregation was too large for the place. M3" subject was 
 Zechariah ix. 9. The people were more aflfectionate than 
 on the preceding evening. Many solicited me to tarrj-, 
 and assured me that a better place should be provided for 
 my accommodation. On Monda}^ evening, November' 1st, 
 I preached to a select number at Mr. Peck's, who seemed 
 to have the power of God among them. In consequence 
 of a pressing solicitation from this gentleman, I took up 
 my lodging in his hospitable mansion ; thus goodness and 
 mercy continuall}^ followed me. Fr.om my beloved friend 
 Binne}^, I received repeated and affectionate letters, and I 
 trusted this young gentleman would become an able advo- 
 cate for the Redeemer. 
 
 A Mr. Little, of Newbur}- port, united his earnest solicita- 
 tions with a number of gentlemen, who importunately 
 urged me to visit that place. I dared not refuse ; and, 
 parting with my affectionate friends in Boston, I accom- 
 panied Mr. Little and others in the stage for Newbur3'port. 
 On our arrival, inquiries were made at the coach-side, if I 
 was there ; and, on being answered in the aflSrmative, a 
 crowd collected. Mr. Parsons, the Presbyterian minister, 
 a venerable-looking gentleman, immediately visited me and 
 asked me man}^ questions. Where I came from? what 
 clergymen I was acquainted with? and what credentials I 
 could produce? During his inquiries he discovered, as it 
 
 *This was a large building, I understand, opposite the site where Park Street 
 Church now stands. — T. W. 
 
286 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 appeared to me, some uneasiness at the idea of m}' preach- 
 ing in his pulpit. I therefore hastened to inform him that 
 I was no priest, nor approved of b}^ gentlemen of thai 
 order ; that I professed myself somewhat acquainted with 
 the salvation wrought out by Jesus Christ, and that, wher- 
 ever his providence called me, I was willing to speak well 
 of the name of the Redeemer ; but I added that I bad 
 great reluctance in speaking in any place in opposition to 
 the wishes of the officiating minister. Mr. Parsons re- 
 plied, " The house was not his ; it was the propert}^ of the 
 people, and when it was not occupied they had an indubi- 
 table right to invite whom they pleased." Speaking of my 
 call to preach, whether ordinar}- or extraordinary^, I observed 
 I had both ; when he petulantly asked, " Pray, can 3'ou 
 speak with tongues?" — ''It is possible I may, sir, with 
 tongues that 3'OU ma}^ not understand. However, j'our 
 question is as much against you as against me. Jesus 
 says, among the man}' signs that shall follow those who be- 
 lieve, they shall heal the sick by lajing hands upon them, 
 and if they take up any deadly thing it shall not hurt 
 them. From these evidences, sir, perhaps it would be as 
 hard for you to prove yourself even a believer, as for me 
 to prove mj'self a preacher sent of God." 
 
 While we were 3'et conversing, the bell was rung, and a 
 lars^e consrresration assembled, amono; which Mr. Parsons 
 himself attended ; and I selected for my subject, Isaiah Iv. 
 10, 11. Agreeably to his earnest request, Mr. Little was 
 my host; and upon the ensuing morning (Saturday), in 
 consequence of a very polite invitation, I breakfasted with 
 Mr. Parsons, and I was received by him and his ver}- cor- 
 dially ; his countenance brightened upon me, and he re- 
 quested me to preach again in his church on that day. Nor 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 287 
 
 was this all ; he walked with me to the pulpit, and sat with 
 me there, while I preached, preparatory to the communion, 
 upon John xv. 12. On the ensuing day (Sunday), b}^ the 
 request of Mr. Marsh, who was indisposed, I preached 
 both morning and evening at his church. Several 
 friends visited me at Mr. Little's, and we closed the day 
 with pra^'er. I was rather surprised to learn that I lodged 
 at Mr. Little's upon the very same bed in which Mr. White- 
 field had reposed ; and that I had preached in the pulpit 
 before which he was entombed. I continued in Newbur}'- 
 port, passing m}' time most pleasantly a second Sunday. 
 I preached morning and evening in the pulpit of Mr. 
 Marsh. I gave frequent lectures there, and in the meeting- 
 house of Mr. Parsons, who always sat in the pulpit with 
 me, and frequenth* entertained me most hospitabl}^ at his 
 house. His lady appeared to merit a rank among the most 
 accomplished of women ; she was highly social, sentimental, 
 and pleasant. The circle of my friends in Newburyport 
 was very respectable. Upon a lecture-evening, after I had 
 closed, an old, gray-headed man, a member of Mr. Parsons' 
 church, quitting his seat, addressed the congregation, and 
 in a loud voice said, " My friends, this is a servant of the 
 living God, who is come from a far country, to proclaim 
 the glad tidings of salvation. We have too long been in 
 darkness ; yea, our tongues have cleaved to the roofs of 
 our mouths, and this man is sent to animate and renew our 
 faith." Many blessed God they had seen and heard me ; 
 and all this I imputed to a want of knowledge, relative to 
 the extent of the glad tidings I promulgated. The grace, 
 union, and membership upon which I expatiated, were 
 admitted b\' every Calvinist, but admitted only for the 
 dect; and when I repeated those glorious texts of Scripture, 
 
288 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 which indisputably proclaim the redemption of the lost 
 world, — as I did not expressly say, My brethren, I 
 receive these texts in the unlimited sense in which they 
 are given, — the}' were not apprised that I did not read 
 them with the same contracted views to which the}' had 
 been accustomed. When they became assured of the mag- 
 nitude and unbounded result which I ascribed to the birth, 
 life, and death of the Redeemer, their doors were fast 
 closed against me. For myself, I was in unison with Mr. 
 Relly, who supposed the gradual dawn of light would 
 eventually prove more beneficial to mankind than the sudden 
 burst of meridian day. Thus I was contented with pro- 
 claiming the truth as it is in Jesus, in Scripture language 
 only, — leaving to m}' hearers deductions, comments, and 
 applications. 
 
 While I continued at Newburyport, numerous solicita- 
 tions poured upon me from various quarters ; but, in haste 
 to return to Philadelphia, I could only complj' with the 
 urgent importunities of several gentlemen from Portsmouth, 
 to which place I journe3'ed on the tenth of November, 1773. 
 I was received at Portsmouth with most flattering marks 
 of kindness. The pulpit of the separate minister, Mr. 
 Drown, then recently deceased, was thrown open to me ; 
 the congregations were large ; my adherents were truly re- 
 spectable, and I was earnestl}' urged to take up my residence 
 among them. The meeting-house of Mr. Drown being too 
 small, I was invited into the pulpit of Dr. Langdon,* in 
 which I preached, two clergymen occupying seats therein. 
 In Portsmouth I received many marks of friendship. My 
 necessities were sought out and removed ; and the name of 
 
 *I have supplied Langdon for the initial. It was Rev. Samuel Langdon, 
 D. D., afterwards president of Harvard College. — T. W. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 289 
 
 Clarkson, Morrison, Hart, and Drown, son of the deceased 
 minister, were on that first visit among my most partial 
 friends. I returned to Newburj^port, accompanied by Mr. 
 Morrison and Mr. Drown, and again delivered my testimo- 
 ny^ in the pulpits of the Rev. Mr. Parsons and Mr. Marsh. 
 Mr. Parsons requested I would write to him from Philadel- 
 phia ; and on Wednesday, November 17th, I returned to 
 Boston, where I learned that a spirit of inquiry was in 
 operation among my friends ; that their Bibles were in their 
 hands ; and that they were diligently employed in searching 
 the Scriptures, to find whether these things were indeed so. 
 Upon the evening of the eighteenth, I preached in the mansion 
 of ni}' venerable friend, Mr. Peck ; and I was distinguished 
 by him and his lady with even parental kindness ; Mrs. 
 Peck entreating me to inform my mother, that I had found 
 in the New World a second maternal friend. It was upon 
 this occasion that I audibl}^ exclaimed, " O God ! thou 
 hast still continued my God and m}^ guide ; let me not 
 forget to render praises unto thee." 
 
 At the period of which I am speaking, there were in Boston 
 a number of Deists wiio attended m}^ labors. Their leader 
 gave me frequent invitations to visit him. He summoned 
 his friends, with whom he united in expressing his abhor- 
 rence of the Apostle Paul. To this gentleman I dwelt 
 upon the respectable proofs by which the authenticity of 
 Scripture was supported, and I took leave to observe, that 
 he must have received the character of Paul from his ene- 
 mies ; that Paul was indubitably a learned man, brought up 
 at the feet of Gamaliel ; that he was celebrated as an 
 orator ; and that his morals were unimpeached. It was 
 true, he was said to have advocated a most comfortless 
 doctrine, — to have affirmed that a few were elected to 
 19 
 
290 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 everlasting life ; while, by the same irreversible decree, 
 countless millions were consigned to remediless and never- 
 ending miser3\ " But," I added, " sirs, believe it not ; for, 
 veril}^, the doctrine that God was in Christ reconciling the 
 world unto himself was uniforml}^ proclaimed by our grQ;at 
 apostle. The doctrine of election is questionless to be 
 found in the pages of this evangelical writer ; but reproba- 
 tion is not a necessary consequence of election^ nor does it 
 appear in the writings of the apostle to the Gentiles. A 
 governor is elected by a commonwealth ; a council, senators, 
 representatives are elected ; but are the people therefore 
 consigned to perdition ? " Thus I went on, and my little 
 audience with lifted hands exclaimed, " This plan is 
 worth}' of a God ; and we felicitate you, dear sir, as the 
 ambassador of Deit}-." The hall of the factory, and the 
 dwelling of my friend, being too small for the increasing 
 congregation, Mr. Peck proposed I should publish a lecture 
 in the meeting-house of Mr. Croswell,* of which he was 
 the principal support. I at first declined this proposal ; 
 
 * I have here supplied the name for the initial. This meeting-house, in the 
 pulpit of which Mr. Murray was subsequently stoned, stood in School Street, on 
 the lot next east of that on which the meeting-house of the " Second Universalist 
 Society " now stands. Rev. Andrew Croswell was formerly the pastor of a church 
 In Groton, Conn. He was invited to remove to Boston, and take the charge of 
 the Eleventh Congregational Church. They soon purchased the house in School 
 Street, which had been formerly occupied by the French Protestants. Mr. Peck 
 was one of the principal owners of the house, and supporters of Mr. Croswell; 
 and it was at Ms request and importunity that Mr. Murray preached there. Mr. 
 C.'s society dwindled away ; he became blind, and died April 12, 1785, in the seven- 
 ty-seventh year of his age. The society became extinct, and the meeting-house was 
 sold to the Roman Catholics, who gathered a congregation about this time. They 
 occupied it, we presume, until they removed to their new church in Franklin Place, 
 since which it has been demolished. — Snow's Hist, of Boston, 1826, pp. 201. 
 232, 240. 
 
 Mr. Croswell was generally regarded as a highly bigoted and censorious divine. 
 Hon. Benjamin Russell, for many years the editor of the " Boston Centinel," has 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 291 
 
 but bis repeated and earnest solicitations induced me to 
 preach in Mr. Croswell's pulpit. In the hall of the factor}' 
 also, I again delivered my message ; and on Frida}^ No- 
 vember 26th, I preached at Faneuil Hall ; my subject, 
 John viii. 36 : " If the Son, therefore, shall make you free, 
 ye shall be free indeed." The principal gentlemen of the 
 town were among ni}' audience, who heard me with great 
 seriousness. After lecture, xmrny took me by the hand, 
 and, urging me to return to them speedily, praj^ed in the 
 warmest manner for my success as a gospel promulgator. 
 This was the last night of my abode in Boston, on my first 
 visit. I passed it at Mr. Peck's, accompanied by some 
 friends, and we devoted it to scriptural investigations. 
 M}' continuance in Boston was strongly urged ; but I was 
 under the necessit}' of departing, and devotional prayers 
 for m}^ safety, success, and speed}^ return were reiterated, 
 — SUCH ARE MY CREDENTIALS. I left Bostou ou Saturday, 
 November 27th ; reaching Providence upon the evening of 
 that day, where again and again I delivered my testimou}^ 
 in the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Snow. Departing thence on 
 the Tuesday following, accompanied b}^ my dear young 
 friend, Mr. Binne}', for East Greenwich, I met some ver}^ 
 
 informed me that a poem was once sent him for publication in that paper, con- 
 taining a description of every clergyman then preaching in Boston. One of them 
 heard of it, and sent him a billet, requesting the privilege of perusing it ; whereupon 
 it was loaned to him. He read it, and found himself alluded to in favorable 
 terms ; but as there was much severity in regard to certain individuals, and as it 
 was written by one of his friends, he incurred the anger of Mr. Russell by burn- 
 ing it. Croswell was described in the following manner : — 
 
 " Sour, croaking Croswell, armed with fire and fury, 
 Consigns to hpll, without a judge or jury, 
 All whom his ignorance is wont t'assail. 
 For venturing beyond his narrow pale." 
 
 T. W. 
 
292 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 dear friends, and, as iron sharpeneth iron, so was my coun- 
 tenance brightened, and m}^ spirit soothed and cheered. 
 
 From this period, November 30th, until the close of Jan- 
 uarj', 1774, when I reached my lodging-place at the house 
 of my patron, I moved slowly on, preaching glad tidings in 
 various places, friends and enemies still multiplying. At 
 New London my opportunities of preaching were repeated^ 
 and the number of my treasures proportionably augmented. 
 Hertell, Wliey, Trueman, — these were of the true circum- 
 cision, who worshipped God in the spirit, rejoicing in Christ 
 Jesus, and having no confidence in the flesh ; and my 
 orisons were dail}^ offered up to the God of all consolation, 
 that the number of such genuine believers might be in- 
 creased. I delight to dwell upon the days I have passed in 
 New London. Deshon, Wheat, Saltonstall, Packwood, Law, 
 Huntington, Champlin, Hubbard, etc., etc., very pleasant 
 have ye been unto me. May the blessing of God descend 
 upon 3^our children's children, to the latest generation ! 
 
 One capital difficulty, which has encompassed me in my 
 progress through this younger world, has been the extreme 
 reluctance of inquirers to receive their answers in Scripture 
 language. Standing alone, I have sought to wrap myself, 
 or rather to intrench myself, in the sacred testimony of my 
 God ; and for this I have been accused of prevarication, 
 equivocation, and what not, merely because I have not 
 generall}^ chosen to garb my sentiments in my own words. 
 For example : the interrogator commences with a great 
 many compliments, and then follows, " Do you believe all 
 men will finally be saved?" — '• / believe it is good and 
 acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, ivho will have all 
 men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth." 
 — '' But do you yourself believe that all mankind will 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 293 
 
 finally be saved?" — " God hath included all in unbelief 
 that he may have mercy upon all." — " But will all be finallj^ 
 saved?" — " God hath spoken of the restitution of all things, 
 by the mouth of all his holy prophets.^ since the world began." 
 — " But still 3^ou do not answer m}^ question." — " Wh}', 
 sii-, for an3'thing I know, the authors I have cited mean 
 by their words precisel}' the same as I do. I adopt their 
 langua^, because I conceive it expresses my own ideas 
 better than any set of phrases I could press into my ser- 
 vice." This mode, however, has rarelj^ given satisfaction. 
 Persons dare not, in an unqualified manner, deny the valid- 
 ity of Scripture testimony. The}^ can only assert, it does 
 not mean as it speaks, and they earnestl3" repeat the ques- 
 tion, " Do you believe," etc., etc. While my responses 
 are drawn from the sacred streams flowing in the book of 
 God, from Genesis to Revelation, still they importunateh^, 
 sometimes clamoroush', demand, "But do you take those 
 Scriptures as they are spoken?" To which I can onl}' 
 repl}^ " I have no reason to believe that, by saying one 
 thing, and meaning another, men, so upright, have formed a 
 plan to deceive me." An attempt has then been made to 
 prove the texts in question did not, could not, mean as they 
 spake. To which I have answered, " Multitudes are on 
 your side. Manj^ have labored to prove God a liar;, but I 
 have never 3'et heard an}^ argument sufficientlj^ potent to 
 convince me that he is so " 
 
 On the ninth of April in this j^ear, I received from the 
 church and congregation* in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 
 
 ♦This society afterwards settled Rev. Joseph Walton, who was ordained over 
 them Sept. 22, 1789, and died in 1822, aged eighty. On the removal of Rev. 
 Hosea I'>alIou to Portsmouth, in 180.», Mr. Walton entered into a controversy with 
 him, in connection with Rev, Joseph Buckminster, two editions of which have 
 been published. — T. W. 
 
294 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 worshipping in the separate meeting-house, a solemn and 
 affectionate call, to take upon me the pastoral charge of 
 that people ; but I was not then convincedl ought to accept 
 an establishment in any place. I passed the spring, and the 
 early part of the summer, of 1774, in Pennsylvania, the 
 Jerseys, and New York, with persons who had drank into 
 the same spirit with myself; with my revered friend and 
 father, with the Mounts and Pangburns of those happ}' 
 daj's. Blessed be God, I have indeed enjoyed richl}^ the 
 consolations of friendship ! In Philadelphia I was present 
 at the heart-rending trial of some malefactors, which re- 
 sulted in their receiving sentence of death ; and I could 
 not forbear exclaiming, '• O Adam, what hast thou 
 DONE?" My bosom swells to rapture upon the reflection 
 that I had frequent opportunities of visiting those criminals, 
 and of preaching to them peace, through the fountain 
 opened in the side of the second Adam. The poor creatures 
 seemed much affected. The proclamation of the tender 
 mercies of the Redeemer was more effectual than all the 
 terrors of Mount Sinai. Departing from New York, about 
 the twentieth of Jul}^ I passed, by short stages, through Con- 
 necticut and Rhode Island, visiting my friends in various 
 directions, and deriving inexpressible satisfaction from be- 
 holding their order, their zeal, and the magnitude of their 
 faith. On the sixteenth of August, the governor of Rhode 
 Island sent me a passage of Scripture, soliciting me to 
 take it for my subject. It may be found Mark xiv. 10. 
 The governor attended, and, after I had closed, took my 
 hand with much cordiality, and expressed himself well 
 satisfied, and truly grateful. 
 
 September 14, 1774, I again reached Boston. My 
 fri(mds had long been expecting me, and I was received 
 
I 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 295 
 
 with demonstrations of heart-felt joy. Through the great- 
 est part of this autumn I continued preaching in the hall 
 of the factory, in the mansion of my venerable friend, and 
 at Faneuil Hall. Once I attempted to preach in Mason's 
 Hall ; but the throng, and consequent confusion, were so 
 great, that I was necessitated to desist even after I had 
 worded my text ; and finally, the congregations still aug- 
 menting, I jielded to the pressing solicitations of the pro- 
 prietors of Mr. Cros well's meeting-house, and repeatedly 
 delivered m}' testimony there. On the thirty-first of 
 October, a gentleman by the name of Sargent called upon 
 me from Gloucester, urging me to accompan}- him to his 
 place of residence. M3' engagements would not allow my 
 immediate attendance, but I gave my word for an early 
 compliance with his wishes. November 2d, Wednesday 
 evening, I named as the subject of my public lecture, Luke 
 xiii., from the twenty-fourth to the thirtieth. After I had 
 closed, a clerg3'man,* of a respectable appearance, whom I 
 had never before seen, ascended the stairs of the pulpit, 
 and addressed the people to the following effect : " My 
 friends, you have heard a great deal said (for what purpose 
 I know not) which is calculated to lead 3'ou astra}^ from 
 the true meaning of the text. The passage refers to the 
 general judgment, and to nothing else ; and all that has 
 been said can only originate wrong ideas of the Scriptures.; 
 for how can it be that the Jews should be intended by those 
 who were shut out? When did the Jews see Abraham and 
 Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of God? Or how is it 
 possible, that, if they should thus behold them, they could 
 ever be happy ? It is not possible that any w^ho die in a 
 
 * This, I am informed, was Rev. J. Bacon, pastor of the Old South Church. 
 — T. W. 
 
296 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 stale of unbelief should ever be happy to all eternity ; and 
 therefore, ray brethren, I would exhort you to take care 
 you are not led astray by the words of man's wisdom, and 
 the cunning craftiness of men, whereby the}^ lie in wait to 
 deceive. Oh ! it is ver}^ dangerous to give heed to such 
 things." Thus the gentleman proceeded, earnestly warning 
 the people, and then paused. Again I arose, saying, 
 " Now this is well ; I like this. How infinitely preferable 
 to secret calumny ! No bush-fighting here. And, so much 
 am I gratified with this ingenuous manner of dealing with 
 me, that it is with extreme reluctance I find it necessary to 
 dissent from him in opinion. Yet I must beg leave to 
 observe, in the first place, the gentleman must assuredh' 
 be wrong, in supposing the passage in question refers to the 
 general and ^?iaZ judgment. Do but attend to the conclud- 
 ing verse, ' There are last which shall be firsts and first 
 which shall be last' Surely, the text would not be thus 
 worded if the last judgment were designed. The parable 
 of the ten virgins illustrates this passage." Then turning 
 to the eleventh of Romans, I pointed out some particulars, 
 which are generalh^ passed unnoticed ; and when I read, 
 " for God hath included them all in unbelief, that he might 
 have mercy upon all," my opponent, rising, looked over my 
 shoulder, evidentl}' to ascertain if I had given the genuine 
 reading of the text ; upon which a lawyer in the assembly 
 exclaimed, ''I advise you, sir, to retire and read your 
 Bible." I begged we might not be interrupted ; and I 
 affirmed that my antagonist was entitled to my cordial 
 thanks, and that I devoutl3^ wished Iiis example might be 
 generally influential. I then proceeded to show that it was 
 possible an individual might pass out of time ignorant of 
 God, and yet be taught of God in that great dav when the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 297 
 
 books should be opened. I read the last part of the twent}"- 
 second Psalm, making a few remarks thereon ; and, after 
 exhorting the audience to follow the example of the Bereans, 
 I paused for a repl}'. The gentleman affirmed I had given 
 an erroneous view of the parable of the ten virgins ; that it 
 pointed out the visible church ; and that the foolish virgins 
 were the l\ypocrites ; and he admonished the people to 
 beware of false teachers, etc., etc. To which I replied, by 
 presuming the gentleman did not recollect that t\\Q foolish 
 virgins seemed to be equally a part of the kpigdom of heaven 
 with the wise virgins, otherwise he would not so liberally 
 consign them to the devil. He would have us believe the 
 kingdom of heaven is the visible church. Such are the 
 sentiments of his Holiness at Rome ; but, having abjured 
 one Pope, I trusted we should not again be brought into 
 subjection to principles, the propriety' of which our hearts 
 refused to acknowledge. 
 
 November 3d, I repaired to Gloucester, and was re- 
 ceived by a few ver}- warm-hearted Christians. The mansion- 
 house, the heart of the then head of the Sargent family, 
 with his highly accomplished, and most exemplary ladj', 
 were open to receive me. I had travelled from Maryland 
 to New Hampshire without meeting a single individual 
 who appeared to have the smallest idea of what I esteemed 
 the truth as it is in Jesus ; but, to mv great astonishment, 
 there were a few persons, dwellers in that remote place, 
 upon whom the light of the gospel had more than dawned. 
 The writings of ]Mr. Relly were not onl}' in their hands, 
 but in their hearts. Four years previous to this period, an 
 Englishman, a Mr. Gregor}^ had brought with him those 
 obnoxious pages, and loaned them to this small circle of 
 Gloucesterians, by whom they had been seized with avidity ; 
 
298 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 the Father of their spirits rendered them luminous to their 
 understandings ; and it was in consequence of their admi- 
 ration of Mr. Relly, that, observing in the papers of the 
 day an individual malignantly arraigned as a preacher of 
 Relh'*s gospel, they delaj^ed not to despatch earnest solici- 
 tations for my presence among them. In Gloucester, 
 therefore, I passed m}" time most agreeabl}^ until Novem- 
 ber 12th. The clergyman of the principal meeting-house 
 being confined by illness, I was visited by the deacons 
 and elders of his church, and by them conducted to his 
 house, after which I obtained permission to preach in his 
 pulpit, which I several times did ; my subjects, 1 
 Cor. xi. 26; the good Samaritan; Isaiah xxviii. 16. 
 etc. Every day and every evening was appropriated to 
 the expounding of the Scriptures, in the spacious and well- 
 filled parlor of m}' new and highh^ respectable friend ; and 
 I had reason to believe that God most graciously crowned 
 my labors in this place by giving to some brighter views, 
 and inducing others to search the Scriptures for themselves. 
 Every morning commenced, and every day closed, with 
 praj^er ; and with glad hearts we delighted to hymn the 
 praises of a redeeming God. Taking a most aflectionate 
 leave of those ver}' dear friends on Saturdaj^ morning, ac- 
 companied by Mr. Sargent, I returned to Boston. Upon 
 the evenings of Sunday and Wednesday I again occupied 
 the pulpit of Mr. Croswell, and upon the evening of 
 Wednesday the audience were incommoded by a profusion 
 of water thrown over them, and an Qg^ was aimed at me in 
 the pulpit, which, however, happened to miss me. On 
 Thursda}^ a piece of slander was published in the paper of 
 the day, over the signature of Mr. Croswell. He had be- 
 fore declared he would print no more in the newspaper ; 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 299' 
 
 SO had I ; but, although he had forfeited his word, I did not 
 think proper to follow his example, and I therefore ad- 
 dressed the following letter to his private ear : — 
 
 " Sir : Some time since, being under the disagreeable necessity of replying to 
 a dull repetition of your abusive slanders, and being persuaded, Hglit or wrong, 
 yoii would have the last word, I assured the public I would write no more in 
 newspapers. So did you. But your brilliant example shall never influence me to 
 undertake the vindication of my veracity, by convincing the world I can lie. 
 But, as in the close of your last performance, you informed me and the public, 
 that if I thought myself wronged, what had been asserted should be proved to 
 my face, before as large an auditory as I pleased, I now, sir, take leave to say, I 
 do thiuk myself most cruelly wronged, and I should rejoice in an opportunity 
 of vindicating myself at the bar of tlie impartial public: yes, I should rejoice to 
 see a very large audience collected; but, as I suppose we shall not be able to 
 procure any place but the meeting-house in School Street, I shall expect, if you 
 be an honest man, to meet you there. You commend a certain gentleman, who 
 recently spoke to me in that house. So do I. He did not, like Solomon's fool, 
 cast about firebrands, arrows, and death, and say, 'Am I not in sport?' he 
 spake above-board, fair and openly. I should be glad if you would come and do 
 likewise— only I request you will let me know in writing, by the bearer, when 
 you will do this piece of common justice, to the cruelly and most unwarrantably 
 treated "John Murr.w. " 
 
 This letter enraged him, and he sent it back, declaring 
 he would have nothing to do with me. But on the follow- 
 ing Sunday evening, when I repaired as usual to the meet- 
 ing-house to preach, Mr. Croswell was upon the stairs of 
 the pulpit, with a number of his violent adherents, for the 
 purpose of barring me out. Making no resistance, I re- 
 quested the gentleman might be heard with patient atten- 
 tion ; and, silence being obtained, Mr. Croswell entered the 
 pulpit, and declaimed for a long time with great bitterness ; 
 accusing me of preaching damnable doctrines, though he- 
 had never heard me preach, but so he had been informed ; 
 asserting that I was one of Rell3''s followers, and Relly 
 believed all mankind would be saved ; and Relh' was a 
 blasphemer, and denied the atonement ; and I was a Deist^ 
 
300 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and it was dangerous to allow me to speak ; for I said 
 once, in his hearing, that God loved the devil's children ; 
 and then, raising his voice, he vociferated, " It is a lie, a 
 lie, a lie ; it is a damnable lie ! " Thus he went on, alter- 
 nately cr3'ing out against me and against Mr. Relh', 
 damning m}- preaching and his writings, and exhorting the 
 people to avoid me, etc., etc. When lie had concluded, he 
 quitted tlie pulpit, and was passing out of the house as 
 speedity as possible. I requested him to stop ; but, ob- 
 serving he was rapidly departing, I urged the people to 
 give me an opportunity of having justice done me, by de- 
 taining my accusing adversar}^ that I might defend myself 
 in his presence ; and Mr. Croswell was accordingly led 
 into a pew. I informed the audience that I did indeed 
 labor under great difficulty. The person to whom I was 
 about to repl}^ was an old gentleman and a clergyman, 
 both of which characters were indubitably entitled to re- 
 spect. Yet truth was, in m}' opinion, abundantl}^ superior 
 to ever}^ other consideration ; it was beyond all price ; a 
 gem with which its possessor should never part. I should 
 therefore take leave to say Mr. Croswell was ver}' right 
 and very wrong, — right in condemning damnable doctrines ; 
 wrong in charging me with preaching those doctrines. Mr. 
 Croswell, 1 said, reminded me of Nero, who, to be re- 
 venged upon the Christians, set the city of Rome on fire, 
 and charged the Christians with that atrocious deed. 
 
 Mr. Croswell had dressed me in a bear's skin, and then 
 set the dogs at me. " He affirms that I preach damnable 
 doctrines. Suffer me to ask. What are the damnable doc- 
 trines? Peter says, 'There shall arise false teachers 
 among you, as there were false prophets among the people, 
 -who shall privily bring in damnable doctrines, even deny 
 
LIFE OF FEV. JORy MUFF AT. SOI 
 
 ing the Lord, who houglit tht-/j\.' I ai i "ral to this andience. 
 Did I ever deny the Lord who bougL: you? Od the con- 
 trary, have I not borne constant testimoDy to this pur- 
 chase ? Did yon ever hear me say, it made no difference 
 whether a man lived a good or a bad life ; was a believer or 
 an uribeKecer? Surely, it is highly inconsistent to rank 
 me with the Deist, who utterly disowns the Redeemer, 
 when I am anaigned at this bar for belie\'ing there is no 
 God out of Christ, and that He who is God our Saviour 
 is all arid in all. 3Ir. Relly* is three thousand miles from 
 this metropolis : Mr. Croswell has neither seen nor heard 
 him. Blasphemy, of which 3Ir. Croswell accuses him. is no- 
 where to be found in his writings. These writings, give 
 me leave to say. will live, and be held in admiration, when 
 ten thousand such characters as 31:". Croswell's and mine 
 will be consigned to oblivion." Thus I went on. Mr. Cros- 
 well again advanced to the pulpit ; reiterated what he had 
 before asserted, without regarding a syllable which I had 
 uttered, until at length he interrogated, " Does God love 
 all the people in the world as well as Peter and Paul?" 
 
 — •• Suner me. sir. first to ask you one question, which, if 
 you will answer, then I will reply to yours. Did God love 
 Peter and Paul as well before they believed as afterwards?'* 
 
 — "God loved Peter and Paul from the foundation of the 
 world." Again and again I repeated my question, bat 
 could not obtain a direct answer. The people from the 
 galleries called out. *• "W^hy do you not say yes, or no?" — 
 but he refused thus to commit himself, and of course I 
 dropped the inquiry. Again he returned to the charge. 
 
 * As this is the last notice the reader ^rill find of the Eer. James ReDy, it is 
 IMt>per to say he died in the fidl £uth of the doctrine he had preadied, some- 
 where we beliere about ITSi, Mr. Murray was seasihly affiectied with the intdli- 
 gence of his death. — T. W. 
 
302 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 *' Does God love all the people in the world as well as 
 Peter and Paul? " — " Yes, sir, I believe he does, as well 
 as he loved those apostles before they believed." — "Do 
 joii believe God loves all the people in the world?" — 
 " Yes, sir, I do." Then, again, Lie proceeded most violentl}', 
 and, that the heres}^ might be confirmed, he once more 
 questioned, " Do you believe that God loves the devil's 
 x'hildren as well as his own beloved ones ? " — " No, indeed ; 
 I do not think God loves any of the devil's children." — 
 " There, there, now he is hiding again." — " Suffer me, sir, 
 to ask. What is it constitutes the character of the wicked 
 man?" — " That is nothing to the purpose." 
 
 " Again I ask. What is it constitutes the character of 
 the wicked man?" Here several individuals tremulously 
 asked, " Why do you not answer the question? We are all 
 -concerned in it ; we are seeking information." — " Suppose 
 I cannot ; let some one else answer, and, if I like it, I will 
 agree to it." No answer was given, and Mr. Croswell re- 
 sumed his declamation, affirming I had said God loved 
 the devil's children. I denied the charge, and was again 
 accused of hiding^ when 1 besought the attention of the 
 people, while I explained myself. " What are we to under- 
 stand by a father and a child, but the begetter and begot- 
 ten? Can you, Mr. Croswell, or can any one present, pre- 
 sume to say, that the bodies, or the souls, of mankind were 
 begotten by the devil? Is not God the Father of the 
 spirits of all flesh? Is not God the Maker of our frames? 
 and doth not the apostle say, we are all his offspring ? If 
 it be confessed we all died in Adam, we were of course in 
 Adam ; and if we were in Adam, we were what Adam was. 
 But the Evangelist Luke affirms that Adam was the son of 
 Ood. We will next inquire. Who are the children of the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 303 
 
 devil, and who are the children of God? I humbl}- con- 
 ceive, Christ Jesus himself has put the matter be^'ond dis- 
 pute in the ever-memorable parable of the tares of the 
 field, and our obligation to the Redeemer for explaining it 
 so clcarl}^ to his disciples is indeed immeasurable." I then 
 repeated the parable, and the explanation ; and proved 
 from thence, that the abominations of the earth were chil- 
 dren of the devil, because produced by him ; that the iniqui- 
 ties of the people were the tares sowed by the adversar}^ ; 
 that our nature was the good seed which Jesus sowed. A 
 holy God could not love sin, and, of course, could love no 
 child of the devil ; but men being his offspring, he once 
 loved them as his own, and, having loved his own, beloved 
 them unto the end ; that he had proved this to all men, in 
 the gift of his Son ; God so loved the worlds that he gave 
 them his Son. Mr. Croswell interrupted: "Nine-tenths 
 of all you have said is nothing at all to the purpose ; " and 
 again, in terms the most violent, he renewed his accusation, 
 that I was all the time hiding. A voice from the gallery 
 exclaimed, " If he be hiding^ why do you not hunt him out 
 of the bush?" 
 
 Mr. Croswell at length tauntingly said, " Come, come, 
 leave off hiding^ and tell the people, in plain English, that 
 God loves them all." To which I answered, " I will, sir, 
 in as plain English as I can command ;" and then, address- 
 ing the congregation, I thus delivered the genuine senti- 
 ments of my soul. " I am commissioned to say to every in- 
 dividual before me, that God loves you, and that you are 
 not to accept this declaration upon my bare word ; you 
 have the word of a God, who cannot lie; who proclaims 
 himself loving unto every man ; who has given 3^ou 
 proof positive of his love. His love has been greatly 
 
304 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 manifested in yonr birtii ; in rearing you from infancy ; 
 in guarding you through the devious paths of child- 
 hood and youth, and preserving you from ten thousand 
 dangers to which 3'ou have been exposed. His gracious 
 providence, in so plentifully providing for you, is a proof 
 of his love. Your civil and religious liberties are blessed 
 proofs of the love of your God. These particulars an- 
 nounce the love of Deity to every individual, as a Creator 
 and Preserver. Yet these manifestations may be con- 
 sidered as merely temporal ; but, blessed be the holy name 
 of Jehovah ! I am authorized to add, and in plain English 
 too, that God loves the soul, which emanates from himself, 
 and that he has proved this love by the gift of his Son. 
 God so loved the world that he gave them his Son. To us 
 a child is born, to us a son is given. God has evinced his 
 love, by giving us, in this Son, reconciliation, regeneration, 
 a new head, a new heart, a right spirit. Here 3'our Crea- 
 tor so loved you, as to give 3'ou wisdom, righteousness, sanc- 
 tijication, and redemption. In Christ Jesus, God has so 
 loved you, as to bless you with all spiritual blessings. 
 Every individual should believe this, since it is nothing 
 more than an accomplishment of the promise, of the oath 
 of Jehovah, which he sware unto Abraham, saying, '•And 
 in thy Seed shall all the nations, all the families of the earth 
 be blessed.* Such are the glad tidings, which the God who 
 loved 3^ou before the foundation of the world hath com- 
 manded U3 to proclaim to eveiy one of you ; such a:e the 
 glad tidings which you ought to believe. If your heart 
 tell you it is not so, believe it not, it is an unbelieving 
 heart ; he that trusteth such a heart is a fool. If the devil 
 tell 3'ou it is not so, believe him not, he was a liar from 
 the beginning. If your ministers tell 3'ou you ought not 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 305 
 
 to believe this good report, trust them not ; they take part 
 with the devil, and your unbelieving hearts. The devil 
 would persuade 3'OU not to believe the glorious truths, be- 
 cause, if you were delivered from his usurpation, you would 
 henceforward serve your Creator without fear. The arch- 
 fiend is solicitous to retain you in bondage. His utmost 
 ellbrts are in requisition to prevent you from believing 
 that God has so loved you as to purchase you with the 
 pric(! of blood, of the precious blood of the Lamb of God. 
 He would prevent you from believing that you are bought 
 with such a price, lest, thus believing, you should render 
 yourselves living sacrifices, hol}^, and acceptable to God. 
 But, ' let God be true, and every man a liar.' ' Ye are not 
 your own, 3'e are bought with a price,' and ' the love of 
 Christ constraineth us, because we thus judge, If one died 
 for all, then were all dead; and that he died for all, that 
 they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, 
 hut unto him, who died for them, and rose again' " 
 
 All the time I was speaking, Mr. Croswell was kicking 
 my legs, or pulling the skirts of my garment, ever and anon 
 vociferating, " Have done, have done ; 3^ou have said 
 enough ; quite enough," etc. etc. Sometimes he stood up 
 close to my side, shouldering me as hard as he was able. 
 The congregation noticed his behavior, and it did not 
 give them pleasure. For myself, I had much cause of grati- 
 tude to my divine Master : first, that he was pleased to 
 give me words ; and, secondly, that he did not suffer me to 
 lose m^' self-command. No, not for an instant. Blessed 
 be the name of the Lord ! 
 
 My next evening lecture was uninterrupted ; but, on the 
 succeeding Sunday evening, the throng was so prodigious 
 that it was with much difficulty I reached the pulpit ; and 
 20 
 
306 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 when I entered, I was nearly suffocated by the strong efflu- 
 via, arising from the asafoetida with which the tools of the 
 adversary had wet the pulpit and the pulpit cloth, plenti- 
 fully sprinkling the whole house with the same noxious 
 drug. For some moments I was so much overpowered, as 
 to induce an apprehension that it would be impossible I 
 should proceed ; but the God of my life was abundantly 
 sufficient for me. The demons of confusion were, however, 
 not quite satisfied ; many stones were violently thrown 
 into the windows ; yet no one received any other injury 
 than the alarm which was created. At length, a large 
 rugged stone, weighing about a pound and a half, was for- 
 cibly thrown in at the window behind my back ; it missed 
 me. Had it sped, as it was aimed, it muse have killed me. 
 Lifting it up, and waving it in the view of the people, I ob- 
 served, " This argument is solid^ and weighty^ but it is 
 neither rational, nor convincing.'' Exclamations from vari- 
 ous parts of the house were echoed and re-echoed : *' Pray, 
 sir, leave the pulpit, your life is at hazard." — " Be it so," I 
 returned; "the debt of nature must be paid, and I am as 
 ready, and as willing, to discharge it now, as I shall be fifty 
 years hence. Yet, for your consolation, suffer me to say, I 
 am immortal while He who called me into existence has 
 any business for me to perform ; and when He has executed 
 those purposes for which He designed me, He will graciously 
 sign my passport to realms of blessedness. With your 
 good leave, then, I pursue my subject, and while I have a 
 Thus saith the Lord for every point of doctrine which I 
 advance, not all the stones in Boston, except they stop my 
 breath, shall shut my mouth, or arrest my testimony." The 
 congregation was, as I have said, astonishingly large ; but 
 order and silence were gradually restored, and I had un- 
 
 I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 307 
 
 common freedom in the illustration and defence of those 
 sacred truths which will be ultimately triumphant. Two 
 or three succeeding lecture evenings were unmolested, when 
 the business of stoning me in the pulpit was again re- 
 sumed. My friends were in terror, and, after I had closed, 
 forming a strong phalanx around me, they attended me 
 home. Man}^ religious people were violent in their opposi- 
 tion ; they insisted that I merited the severest punishment ; 
 that the old discipline for heretics ought to be put in force ; 
 and I was thus furnished with abundant reason to bless 
 God for the religious liberty of the country of my adoption, 
 else racks and tortures would have been put in operation 
 against me, nor would these holy men, moved by the 
 Spirit, have stopped short of my destruction. Yet was the 
 charge of heresy never proved against me. I was never 
 silenced either by reason or Scripture. I had called upon 
 men everywhere, clergymen, or laymen, to step forward, 
 and convict me of error; promising, immediately upon con- 
 viction, to relinquish the obnoxious tenet, whatever it might 
 chance to be, and to adopt that better wa}^, which would, 
 in such an event, become luminous before me. Truth and 
 gratitude originate the confession, that, in all circumstan- 
 ces^ I have hitherto had reason to bless the God of my life, 
 who hath promised he will be with me to the end of the 
 world, and that all things shall work together for good. 
 Amen, and amen. 
 
 I 
 
^ 
 
LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 [continued^] 
 
i 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SUMMARY RECORD OF EVENTS, FROM JANUARY, 1775, TO 
 OCTOBER, 1809. 
 
 Amid the haunts of memory let me stray, 
 As duty, love, and friendship, point the way; 
 "With hand of diligence, and humid eye, 
 The faithful record tearfully supply. 
 
 Would the beloved preacher had continued his narra- 
 tive ! The editor, fondly calculating upon assistance which 
 she believed herself authorized to expect, pledged herself 
 to continue the sketch, even to the closing scene. But, 
 alas ! disappointed in her cherished hopes she stands alone. 
 Her health is broken, her spirits are depressed, and she is 
 advanced in life ; j^ea, doubtless, she is inadequate to the 
 performance of her promise. But she remembers that this 
 volume is addressed onl\^ to the friends of the dear departed, 
 and she mournfalh^ proceeds to its completion. 
 
 Upon December 14, 1774, Mr. Murra}^ again visited 
 Gloucester. The numerous family of the Sargents then 
 seated in that place embraced, in almost all its branches, 
 the truth as it is in Jesus, and their attachment to him, 
 whom they believed an ambassador of the Redeemer, was 
 proportioned to their zeal. Man}^ respectable names were 
 added, and a little congregation was collected, who seemed 
 to have among them but one heart and one soul. Like the 
 primitive Christians, they assembled daily, and they con- 
 tinued fiom house to house worshipping the only true God 
 
 311 
 
312 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 their Saviour. On recurrence to the journal of the preacher 
 we find a memorandum, written upon his second visit to 
 Gloucester, which is thus worded : " Here my God grants 
 me rest from my toils ; here I have a taste of heaven. The 
 new song is sung here, and worthy is the Lamb constantly 
 dwells upon their tongues." Mr. Chandler's meeting-house 
 was not closed against the promulgator of glad tidings, 
 until some time in January, 1775, upon the twentieth of 
 which month he made a second journey to Newburyport 
 and Portsmouth. Those who adhered to him in those 
 towns, having ascertained that he absolutely believed the 
 final restitution of all things, united with the many in the 
 most unqualified censure. But the friends he had lost, par- 
 ticularly in Portsmouth, were replaced by many others, 
 among whom we find the names of Judge and Sheriff Par- 
 ker, Atkinson, Wentworth, Austin, Warner, Sheafe, Lang- 
 don, Sewall, Brackett, Whipple, Thompson, Turner, Gard- 
 ner, Masse}^, Jackson, etc., etc. The heaven-instructed 
 preacher continued many j^'ears an occasional visitor in 
 Portsmouth, where his labors were greatl}' blessed ; and 
 when other pulpits were closed against him in that metrop- 
 olis, the doors of the Episcopal Church were open for his 
 reception. But after he had repeatedly lectured in that 
 church, a few persons appeared in opposition, and we have 
 this moment, under our eye, an original writing, addressed 
 to the promulgator upon this occasion. We transcribe a 
 verbatim copy : " Whereas it is represented that some ob- 
 jections have been made by one or more persons, belonging 
 to the Church called Queen's Chapel, against the doors 
 thereof being opened for the admission of Mr. John Murray 
 to preach the gospel ; Wherefore, we the subscribers, pro- 
 prietors, and parishioners of the church aforesaid, having 
 
 i 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHX MURRAY. 313 
 
 taken the same into consideration — Do (in order to re- 
 move an}' difficulties that might arise in that gentleman's 
 breast in consequence of such objections) hereby fully de- 
 clare our free will and consent, that the said Church be 
 open at all times, whenever it ma}- be convenient for him 
 to perform divine service in town, more especiall}' during 
 his present staj' ; and, instead of deeming it an indulgence 
 granted him, we shall, on the contrar}', acknowledge it a 
 favor conferred on us, in his acceptance of this invitation. 
 Portsmouth, May 24, 1781." Signed by twenty-four of 
 the leading members of the church in Portsmouth. Our 
 preacher was also made the instrument of irradiating the 
 mind of an exemplar}- philanthropist, Mr. Xoah Parker, 
 now in regions of blessedness, who was so deeph* penetrated, 
 as to present himself a servant of the living God, a volun- 
 tary preacher of the gospel. A convenient house was 
 raised for his use, b}'' the brethren in Portsmouth, and he 
 continued, until his departure out of time, a zealous and 
 able minister of the reconciliation. 
 
 Attached to the Gloucesterians, Mr. Murray once more 
 believed he had found a permanent residence ; 30!, although 
 lie consented to consider that place as his home, he did 
 not relinquish the persuasion that his commission obliged 
 him to go forth a preacher of the gospel, wherever and 
 whenever the providence of God might seem to direct him. 
 The inveteracy of his enemies in the town of Gloucester 
 was in full proportion to the attachment of his friends, and 
 every means of annoyance was in requisition. The spirit 
 of liberty mounted ver}* high in Gloucester, and for the 
 purpose of influencing the ignorant, the teacher was pro- 
 -claimed a papist, sent out b}- Lord North to aid the pur- 
 pose of an obnoxious ministry-. Anathemas, and sometimes 
 
314 
 
 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 stones, followed his steps as he passed the streets. A 
 town-meeting was called, the aim of which (lest the friends 
 of the promulgator should take the alarm) was most ille- 
 gally shrouded in silence, and a vote was thus surrepti- 
 tiously obtained that he should forthwith depart from the 
 borders of Gloucester. Of this vote he was advertised by 
 an oflBcer — let us not say of justice. Still, however, he 
 continued witnessing both to small and great, what Moses 
 and the prophets had testified concerning Jesus of Naz- 
 areth, that he died for our sins, and rose again for our 
 justification. The most unwarrantable means were em- 
 ployed ; old slanders were resuscitated, and new accusa- 
 tions brought forward ; tales, which had been repeatedly 
 confuted, were new garbed and sent abroad, swelling the 
 bosom of integrity with unutterable anguish. Among 
 countless other calumnies which were afloat, a story was 
 embellished and published, originally propagated by one 
 Maxwell, wherein the preacher, the lover of the Redeemer, 
 is represented as treating the Eucharist in a ludicrous 
 manner! although the gentleman — Mr., afterwards Gen- 
 eral, Greene — at whose house, and in whose presence, the 
 irreverent profanation was said to have taken place, had 
 written to Doctor S , and others, completely exoner- 
 ating the accused. Mr. Murray's sentiments upon the 
 sacred and consolatory ordinance of the Lord's Supper 
 are explained and expatiated upon in his " Letters and 
 Sketches of Sermons," to which the interested reader is 
 referred. It cannot be denied, that characters generally 
 respectable combined to stimulate the mob to the most des- 
 perate measures ; but every unwarrantable project was frus- 
 trated. The doors of the meeting-house being now closed^ 
 the parlors of respectable friends became the places of 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 315- 
 
 assembling, until at length a spacious room was consecrated* 
 for that purpose. Letters of excommunication were now 
 addressed, b}" the established minister, to seventeen of the 
 most respectable church-members, and this, for their at- 
 tachment to the gospel of God our Saviour, while others, 
 availing themselves of a provincial law, endeavored to 
 expel the ambassador of their God as a vagrant ; to meet 
 and obviate which difficult}', the kind friend under whose 
 especial patronage he then was, presented him with a deed 
 of gift, which constituted him a freeholder in Gloucester. 
 The months of March and April, in this year, were by the 
 preacher devoted to visiting his friends in Boston, and 
 various parts of Rhode Island, and toward the close of 
 April he returned to his highly favored home, rejoicing 
 that the zeal and attachment of the Gloiicesterians were 
 nothing diminished, and their meetings for scriptural in- 
 vestigations were joyfully resumed. In the month' of May, 
 1775, the leading officers of the Rhode Island Brigade, 
 assembled in the neighborhood of Boston, despatched a 
 respectable messenger, with a letter soliciting the attend- 
 ance of the promulgator, as chaplain * to their detachment 
 of the Revolutionary Army. 
 
 A persuasion that he could be of more use in the army 
 than elsewhere would not allow the preacher to balance,. 
 
 * It is not difficult to see the cause of Mr. Murray's appointment to this office. 
 In his journeys through Rhode Island he had become intimately acquainted with 
 several of the officers, particularly Mr., afterwards General, Greene, who through 
 the whole war held so high a rank in the affection and confidence of the com- 
 mander-in-chief, and who was regarded as second only to him in patriotism, 
 etability, prudence, and military skill. His previous acquaintance with the first 
 officers of the Khode Island Brigade was the unquestionable cause of his ap- 
 pointment. Evans, in his " Sketch of the Christian Sects," and Southey, in his 
 *' Life of Wesley," have both erred, in stating that Mr. Murray was chaplain to- 
 Gen. Washington. He was chaplain only to the Rhode Island Brigade. — T. W. 
 
316 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and, accordingly resigning the calm recess of friendship, he 
 presented himself in the American camp, and, " armed with 
 the sword of Jesse's j^outhful son," he was indeed most 
 ardently engaged. The scene, however, was not calculated 
 to give pleasure to a philanthropist. In a memorandum 
 of this date, he thus expresses himself: " My troubles have 
 recommenced. I am now indeed in the world, and shall 
 doubtless encounter tribulation. I am associated with an 
 ungovernable set of people. It is true, the officers are 
 gentlemen, and call into action every effort to strengthen 
 my hands ; but the soldier — alas ! the fact is, I am not in 
 my own compan}^" 
 
 Upon the third of July the chaplain accompanied a 
 detachment of the brigade, to compliment General Wash- 
 ington upon his arrival to take the supreme command of 
 the army at Cambridge ; and he was received by the immor- 
 tal chief with that urbanity which he so well knew how to 
 jpractise. The subject of the first sermon, preached on 
 Sabbath morning at the camp, Jamaica Plains, was Psalm 
 sliv. 1, 2, 3, and upon the evening of the same day, the 
 last verse of the same psalm. The preacher was engaged 
 occasionally at Jamaica Plains, and on Prospect Hill. 
 Every morning at seven o'clock he met the several regi- 
 ments upon the parade. Gradually the habits of swearing 
 and the rough manners of the soldiery yielded to the 
 <;hristianized eloquence of their chaplain, and his success 
 in the army was indeed most wonderful. His benevolence 
 and benignity while there is storied by many a tongue. 
 We indulge ourselves b}' selecting an instance which did 
 not reach our ears until since his decease. A detachment 
 •of the army was ordered to march ; a river was to be forded ; 
 a poor soldier, in years, and struggling with sickness, was 
 
JJFE OF REV. JOnX MURRAY. 317 
 
 tottering under his burden. The preacher instantly ac- 
 coutred himself with the knapsack, arms, and cartouch- 
 box, and, thus arrayed, proceeded on, while the sufferer, 
 disencumbered, passed lightly over. The writer of this 
 sketch could furnish a series of similar anecdotes ; often, 
 when his finances have been at the lowest ebb, and the 
 prodigious expense of living has produced distressing em- 
 barrassments, she has seen him extend to the necessitous 
 an extricating hand ; and he not only indulged and 
 cherished, but invariably stimulated^ every charitable pur- 
 pose of her soul. 
 
 General Washington honored the preacher with marked 
 and uniform attention. The chaplains of the army united 
 in petitioning the chief for the removal of the promulgator 
 of glad tidings ; the answer was handed them in the general 
 orders of the ensuing day, which appointed Mr. John Mur- 
 ray chaplain of the three Rhode Island regiments, with a 
 command, from His Excellency George Washing'pon, that 
 he should be respected accordingly^ Mr. Murray's com- 
 mission w^as made out and delivered to him ; when, enclos- 
 ing it in a respectfully polite letter of thanks, he returned 
 it to the noble-minded chief, earnestly requesting permis- 
 sion to continue in the army as a volunteer. General 
 Washington, after perusing, folded the paper, and observed, 
 " Mr. Murray is a j^oung man now ; he will live to be old, 
 and repentance will be the companion of his age." The 
 preacher lived to see this prediction fulfilled. Had he em- 
 braced the rich opportunity then presented, he might have 
 continued in the family of General Greene, whose friend- 
 ship was unbroken, and where his abode was hailed as a 
 distinguishing favor, his daily ratio would have augmented 
 for his emolument, his salary would have accumulated, he 
 
318 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 <vonld have retired upon half pay or commutation, and, dur- 
 ing the 3^ears of languor and decrepitude, he might have 
 commanded his own carriage and servants ; but the reader 
 must have seen that the preacher was accustomed to with- 
 draw from the approaches of affluence. 
 
 Mr. Murray continued in the army so long as his health 
 would permit ; but being violently seized b}^ an indisposi- 
 tion, which terminated in a bilious fever that precipitated 
 him to the gates of the grave, he was, by the physician 
 of the brigade, conducted to Gloucester ; and no sooner 
 was his health re-established, than his strongest feelings 
 were powerfully excited by the sufferings of the sons and 
 daughters of want in that town. War of any description 
 is particularly oppressive to the inhabitants seated upon 
 the margin of the ocean. Their subsistence is principally 
 derived from the deep. The rich sources of commerce, 
 thrown open by the genial hand of peace, became to the 
 hardy and enterprising Gloucesterian, legitimate objects 
 of pursuit ; and his uniform and industrious efforts are 
 crowned by competency. But whatever obstructs his ad- 
 venturous plans inevitably involves him in distress; and 
 the period to which we advert was perhaps the most 
 gloomy of any during the Revolutionary War. It had con- 
 tinued long enough to try witliout familiarizing or indurating 
 the feelings, and hope had almost become the victim of 
 despair. The humane preacher surveyed those multiplied 
 children of penur}^, and he surveyed them with a philan- 
 thropic eye ; nor was this all : commencing a journey in 
 the depth of a severe winter, he addressed the general 
 officers in the American army, beginning with their revered 
 cliief, and extending his application to many other gentle- 
 anan whose confidence and whose friendship he enjoyed. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 319 
 
 He addressed to those distinguished individuals the voice 
 of supplication, and so successful was his embassy, that he 
 returned to Gloucester with a large sum of money, which he 
 converted into rice, meal, and molasses, rendering a scrupu- 
 l(>us account to the selectmen, and praying them to recom- 
 mend such persons as were proper objects of this providen- 
 tial l)ount3\ The whole was punctually distributed, aud 
 many sufferers most essentially relieved. Yet,, on the 
 twentj^-seventh day of February, in the succeeding year, 
 1777, we find this same feeling solicitor summoned from 
 t'le bouse of a friend, Mr. Winthrop Sargent, where he was 
 suffering from indisposition, and arraigned at the bar of 
 the then committee of safety for the town of Gloucester. 
 Some gentleman counselled him to disregard the summons, 
 especially as the whole committee were not assembled, and 
 those who were collected were decidedly his inveterate 
 enemies ; but he answered, that, possessing a conscious- 
 ness of innocence, he could not fear the face of man. 
 
 The following account of the extraordinary proceedings 
 which ensued is from the minutes of a gentleman who was 
 an ear-witness of the scene. The chairman of the committee 
 opened the business. "We have sent for you, to know 
 who 3'ou are, and from whence you came?" — "Your 
 question is rather difficult, sir ; I hardly know how to an- 
 swer you. Do you mean where did I come from last? " — 
 "I say where did you come from?" — "I have been in 
 various places in this country, sir." — "I say where did you 
 come from when you came into this country?" — "From 
 England." — " From what part of England ?" — " London." 
 — " What business had you to come to this country? " — 
 " Business, sir ! I felt disposed to come, and came — " — 
 " What business have you in this town ? " — " The same aa 
 
320 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 I Lave in every town where I happen to sojourn." Here 
 one of the committee arose, and requesting leave to speak, 
 which was granted, said, " I conceive we have sent for this 
 man to know fiom whence he came, who he is, and what 
 business he has here. This is a time of difficult}' ; we are 
 at variance with England ; he calls himself an Englishman ; 
 we do not know what he is. He associates with a great 
 many whom we look upon as enemies to this country, and 
 they go to hear him converse, — I think, — I cannot call 
 it preaching." Here Mr. Murra}^ would have spoken, but 
 he was imperiously, not to say impudently, commanded to 
 be silent, and his accuser proceeded, until at length the 
 chairman again resumed, " Where did you come from? We 
 want to know where you were born, and brought up.'* 
 Mr. Murray answered, " Gentlemen, it is not my wish to 
 give you unnecessary trouble. I was born in England ; 
 shortly after I had attained my eleventh year, I accompanied 
 my father to Ireland, where I continued many years under 
 his care. When I was between ten and twenty I returned 
 to England, where I abode, living generally in London, 
 until I quitted it for this country. Since I came into this 
 country, my residence has been in Maryland, Pennsjdvania, 
 the Jerseys, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massa- 
 chusetts, and New Hampshire." — "What did you come 
 into this country for? " — " In pursuit of retirement ; but 
 ^oncurrent circumstances rendered me a preacher." — 
 •'Have you any credentials?" —" Yes, sir." — "Show 
 them." — "I have none present ; there are raan3Mn this 
 town who have heard me, and received my testimony ; they 
 are my credentials." — "Ay, that is nothing; 3'ou see he 
 has no authority'. How could you think of preaching with- 
 out authority?" — " When I came into this country, there 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 321 
 
 was no war. I believed it to be a land of civil and religious 
 liberty. Every charter and every law made among 3'our- 
 selves breathed a spirit of toleration. I felt assured I sliould 
 be allowed liberty of conscience. My intentions were up- 
 right ; a conviction that God had ordained me to proclaim 
 the gospel has been powerfully impressed upon my mind, 
 and I am still convinced that I ought to preach the gospel." 
 — '' How long do you intend to stay in this town? " — "I 
 do not precisely know ; but certainly until the weather and 
 roads shall be good." — "The weather will do, and it is 
 pretty good travelling now." (At this time, the winter 
 having been extreme I3' severe, the roads were nearly impas- 
 sable.) " I do not believe I shall quit Gloucester until 
 April ; about that time I expect to commence a journe3^ to 
 Philadelphia." — " The town is very uneasy at your con- 
 tinuance here, and we are a committee of safety. We are 
 to take up all strangers, and send them out of town." — 
 " Sir, I have already been warned out of town, and if 
 you be apprehensive of my becoming a charge, I can procure 
 bonds." One of the committee addressed the chair for 
 liberty to speak, which having obtained, he said, " Your 
 stay in this town is cause of uneasiness to many. You hurt 
 the morals of the people, and a great many who hear you 
 are enemies to the country." Mr. Murray responded, 
 " Those who hear me, and believe what I deliver, can never 
 be injured in their morals." — " I do not believe you." — 
 " You have not heard all I have said in defence of my per- 
 suasion." — "I have heard enough ; I neither believe^ nor 
 like it." — " Well, sir, there is no act of assembly to compel 
 you to hear ; but you should remember your neighbor is 
 entitled to equal liberty with yourself." — "You deliver 
 very erroneous principles." — " M}' principles are all to be 
 21 
 
322 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 found in the sacred records of divine truth." — " Ay, so 
 you say." — "I was not apprised that I was cited before a 
 spiritual court." Mr. Murray then addressed the chair : 
 " Sir, this gentleman asserts that I associate with a great 
 manj^ enemies of this country. I demand that they be 
 pointed out. If I associate with an individual of this 
 description, it is unknown to me." A gentleman at the 
 chairman's elbow observed, " Mr. Chairman, I think we 
 have no business to answer this man a single question. 
 We did not send for him to answer his questions, but to 
 ask questions of him." 
 
 The chairman then repeated that the town was very un- 
 easy, and advised Mr. Murray to depart to prevent further 
 trouble; to which he answered, " Sir, I have been nearly 
 seven years in this countr3\ Perhaps no one has a more 
 extensive acquaintance. I have many friends and many 
 enemies. I feel that I am a friend to all mankind, and I 
 am happy that no circumstance of my life can prove the 
 contrary. I was invited to this town, and I have been cor- 
 dially received ; but it seems I am suspected, because I 
 associate with many who are enemies to this country. I 
 associate with Captain Winthrop Sargent,* — pray, is he an 
 enemy? During my residence in this place I have never 
 heard a syllable uttered which this committee ought to 
 consider as reprehensible. I am not acquainted with a 
 single individual who appears to me an enemy to this coun- 
 try. Two or three worthy characters I know, who do not 
 perfectly approve every measure which has been adopted. 
 
 * Winthrop Sargent. I have supplied the full name. This gentleman was one 
 of the principal citizens of the place, and Mr. Murray resided at his house. He 
 was a firm and decided patriot, and so the citizens considered him, for they 
 elected him in 1779 to the Convention that framed the Constitution. — T.W. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 323 
 
 I have recently endeavored to recollect how many gentle- 
 men the circle of my connections from Maryland to New 
 Hampshire contained, who were suspected of being un- 
 friendly to the present order of things, and I could number 
 but five persons, not an individual of whom has ever been 
 proved inimical to American prosperit}'. For myself, I 
 rejoice in the reflection that I am a stanch friend to liberty, 
 genuine liberty. It is well known that I have labored to 
 promote the cause of this country, and I rejoice that I have 
 not labored in vain. I am so well known, and I have the 
 happiness to be so well respected, that His Excellency 
 General Washington appointed me to oflSciate as chaplain 
 to several regiments. I should have imagined this would 
 have been sufl3cient credentials here. I have injured no 
 person in this town. I am invited to meet my friends in 
 the house of a friend, where they desire me to read the 
 Bible, to comment thereon, and to unite with them in sol- 
 emn prayer to Almighty God, for the continuance of his 
 mercies to us as a people, and not unto us only, but to a 
 once lost and now redeemed world." A member of the 
 committee observed, that they could not be answerable for 
 anything that might be done by a mob, and it was not in 
 their power to prevent it, if he did not without delay leave the 
 town. Mr. Murray, laying his spread hand upon his breast, 
 answered, " Sir, I feel such a consciousness of innocence 
 here, that I know not what it is to fear. It is with perfect 
 composure that I commit myself to God, and the laws of 
 this Commonwealth. If I have broken any law, let me be 
 punished by law ; but I bless God I am not a lawless per- 
 son. Sir, I am a stranger to fear ; I have committed no 
 action worthy of punishment. Sir, I know not what it is 
 to fear. No man can have any power over me, except it 
 
324 LIFE OF KEY. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 be given to him from above ; no injuiy can be done me, but 
 by the permission of my God. But I am not afraid. The 
 worst this mob can do, is to deprive me of a life which I 
 have been many years quite willing to resign. Sir, I com- 
 mit m3'self and m}- cause to the Ruler of heaven and of 
 earth." One gentleman observed that the rule upon earth 
 was delegated to them, or words to that effect, when Mr. 
 Murray replied, " Sir, I conceive the God of heaven is the 
 only ruler in heaven above, and in earth beneath," and, 
 addressing the chair, he added, " Sir, I have answered 
 ever}^ question 3'ou have thought proper to ask ; and as I 
 find it difficult to speak, I am so very ill, I will take leave 
 to wish 3'OU a good-evening. Gentlemen, good-night ; " 
 when without interruption he departed. 
 
 Alas, alas ! how tyrannical is the dominion of prejudice ! 
 In this Instance it precipitated men, respectable men, who 
 in the common occurrences of life had uniformly preserved 
 a decent reputation, upon a procedure the most absurd and 
 unwarrantable. Interrogations so unceremonious!}^ made 
 to a person who, as the almoner of his God, had, the pre- 
 ceding 3^ear, fed large numbers of their almost famished 
 poor, who had never committed any act of violence, or 
 discovered the smallest inclination to aid the enemies of 
 the New World, were, as we trust, a singular outrage. But 
 Mr. Murray was a Christian, and after the way that they 
 called heresy^ so worshipped he the God of his fathers ; he 
 could not, therefore, be allowed to merit either confidence 
 or gratitude. 
 
 On the Christmas day of 1780, Mr. Murray first preached 
 in a small, neat building, erected for his use b}" the Glouces- 
 terians. * His adherents, associated for public worship, 
 
 * See Engraving, Glouccbter Meeting-house. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 325 
 
 had, as they believed, organized themselves, aiid, solemnly 
 covenanting together, they conceived themselves an inde- 
 pendent CHUKCH OF Christ. A writing was prepared, 
 signed b}' ever}' individual of the congregation, in which, 
 after dilating upon the fundamental principles of the faith 
 thej^ had embraced, the}^ professed to acknowledge, as 
 Christians, no Master but Jesus Christ, receiving as their 
 guide in spiritual matters onlj- the word and spirit of the 
 Redeemer ; but they pledged themselves to the community 
 at large, and to each other, to jield obedience to every 
 ordinance of man, to be peaceable and obedient subjects to 
 the powers ordained of God, in all civil cases. But as sub- 
 jects of that King whose kingdom is not of this world, 
 the}' denied the right of an}' human authority to make laws 
 for the regulation of their consciences ; * they rejoiced in 
 
 * About this time the Convention was in session for forming the Constitution 
 for the Coramonwealtli of Massachusetts. It seems some of the members were 
 somewhat alarmed at the spread of Mr. Murray's sentiments ; for the following 
 is the form of the Third Article of the Bill of Rights, as it was first reported to 
 the Convention. 
 
 "Good morals being necessary to the preservation of civil society; and the 
 knowledge and belief of the being of a God, his providential government of the 
 world, and of a future state of rewards and punUhments, being the only true 
 foundation of morality, the legislature hath therefore a right, and ought to pro- 
 vide, at the expense of the subjects, if necessary, a suitable support for the public 
 worsliip of God, and of the teachers of religion and morals; and to enjoin upon 
 ail the subjects an attendance upon their instructions at stated times and seasons ; 
 provided there be any such teacher on whose ministry they can conscientiously 
 and conveniently attend. 
 
 " All moneys paid,'' etc. 
 
 This form, after a very long and severe debate, was rejected. Previous to the 
 adoption of the Third Article, as it was submitted to, and ratified by, the people, 
 it was very seriously attempted to alter it in the place where it says, " and every 
 denomination of Christians shall be equally under the protection of the laws," 
 by having it read, " and every denomination of Christians, whose avowed princi- 
 ples are not inconsistent with the peace and safety of society,^' or, " except such 
 whose principles are repugnant to the Constitution J" But there was wisdom 
 
o26 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Llie liberty wherewith Christ had made them free, and thei? 
 determined no more to be entangled by any 3'oke of bond- 
 age. They professed a disposition to live peaceably with 
 all men, to avoid unnecessary disputation ; and, should they 
 be reviled, to endeavor in patience to possess their souls. 
 We make from this solemn instrument the following 
 extract : — 
 
 ''As an INDEPENDENT CHURCH OF Chkist thus bouud 
 together by the cords of his love, and meeting together in 
 his name, we mutually agree to receive as our Minister, 
 that is, our servant, sent to labor amongst us in the work 
 of the gospel by the great Lord of the vineyard, our friend 
 and brother, John Murray. This we do from a full con- 
 viction that the same God who sent the first preachers of 
 Jesus Christ, sent him ; and that the same gospel they 
 preached we have, from time to time, received from him. 
 Thus believing him a Minister of the New Testament, con- 
 stantly declaring the whole counsel of God, proclaiming the 
 same <1ivine truth that all God's holy prophets from the 
 beginning of the world have declared, we cordially rect;ive 
 him as a messenger from God. And as it hath pleased 
 God to open a great and effectual door for the preaching of 
 his gospel, by this his servant, in sundry parts of tliis 
 great continent ; whenever it shall please his and our divine 
 Master to call him to preach the everlasting gospel else- 
 where, we will wish him God-speed ; and pray that the good- 
 will of Him who dwelt in the bush ma}^ accompan}' him, and 
 make his way clear before him." 
 
 enough in the Convention to defeat these disguised attempts on the liberties of 
 the people. 
 
 See the work lately published by order of the legislature, entitled " Journal 
 of Couveution, 17?y-S0."— T. W. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 327 
 
 Thus, we repeat, the little congregation in Gloucester 
 considered themselves an iXDEPENDrxx church of Christ. 
 The}' were conscious that they had, in every instance, 
 demeaned themselves as good citizens, and that their 
 utmost efforts had uniformly been embodied for the 
 advancement of the public weal. They felt themselves 
 deservedly invested with the privileges and immunities 
 of free citizens, entitled to those liberties with which God 
 and nature had endowed them, and which they believed to 
 be secured to them by a constitution of government happily 
 established b}' the people of this Commonwealth. Dissent- 
 ing essentiall}' from the doctrines taught by the established 
 minister, the}^ had borne an early testimony against his 
 settlement ; and the}' hurabl}" hoped it would be sufficient 
 for them to believe the holy scriptures, and to adopt the 
 pure sj'stem of morals contained therein as the rule of their 
 conduct, and the man of their counsel. They rejoiced 
 in the libert}^ of free inquiry, guaranteed by the strong arm 
 of government ; and they felicitated themselves that they 
 had been ushered into being at a time when that fearful 
 period had gone b}', which, arming the religionist with the 
 potent vengeance of civil authority, wrapped the whole 
 world in a cloud of impenetrable darkness, debilitated the 
 human intellect b}" closing the door of free inquir}', and 
 gave birth to eight hundred years of ignorance and bar- 
 barism, unequalled b}' any preceding era; whence arose 
 an awful chasm in the history of the world, and men ceased 
 to think because thinking was a crime. The Gloucesterians 
 adopted the idea of a respectable writer, who considered 
 ordination as nothing more than the solemn putting a man 
 into his place and office in the church, a right to which he 
 had obtained by previous election, which, together with his 
 
328 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 voluntary acceptance of such election, becarae a legitimate 
 base, upon which was founded the relationship between 
 pastor and flock. Thus, as the word ordain signifies no 
 more than to appoint, they conceived that the election^ and 
 not the laying on of hands, completed the ordination. 
 Reposing upon the second and third article in the declara- 
 tion of rights, the Gloucesterians exultingly said, '' Xo 
 subject shall be hurt, molested, or restrained in his person, 
 libert}', or estate, for worshipping God in the manner and 
 season most agreeable to the dictates of his own conscience ; 
 or for his religious profession or sentiments, provided he 
 doth not disturb the public peace, or obstruct others in their 
 religious worship. All religious societies shall, at all 
 times, have the exclusive right of electing their public 
 teachers, and of contracting with them for their support 
 and maintenance. And all moneys paid by the subject to the 
 support of public worship, shall, if he require it, be uniformly 
 applied to the support of the public teacher or teachers of his 
 own religious sect or denomination, provided there be any on 
 whose instructions he attends.'' But while the Gloucesterians 
 were confidently singing a requiem to their cares, they 
 beheld, to their great astonishment, and no s.nall disma}', 
 their goods seized by an officer, and sold at auction, for the 
 purpose of answering the demands of the established 
 minister. Articles of plate from one, English goods from 
 another, and, from a third, the anchor of a vessel on the 
 point of sailing. 
 
 It was, as we believe, in the autumn of 1783 that this 
 act of violence took place. An action was instituted b}' 
 the Indc|)cndent Church of Christ in Gloucester. Mr. Mur- 
 ray' was urged to allow the prosecution to proceed in his 
 name. His reluctance to this step was decided and affect- 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHX MURRAY. 329 
 
 ing. He bad passed through the countiy without even 
 allowing or accepting contributions ; and to be considered 
 a prosecutor for moneys said to be due to him for preaching 
 the gospel^ which he had determined to promulgate free as 
 the light of heaven! — the ver^' idea was a stab to his long- 
 cherished feelings. It appeared to him like prostrating the 
 integrit}' of his character, and stripping him of those 
 honors which he had fondly hoped would remain forever 
 unshorn. The situation of his mind upon this occasion 
 may be gathered from two extracts of letters, addressed to 
 him by a respectable gentleman: "You know the induce- 
 ment 1 had to engage in this cause was to be emancipated 
 from the shackles of a pontificate : and mj^ aversion was 
 ever determined from having the suit brought in 3'Gur name, 
 as well from your abhorrence, as that the result, however 
 favorable, would not establish us upon the broad base of 
 genuine freedom. However, I am now convinced from 
 reflection that our cause will be ruined unless 3'ou assume 
 it. Mr. Hilchborne was clear it ought to have been in your 
 name before. At our pressing request, he drew the last 
 writ. Mr. Sullivan has declared it must be in your name. 
 Mr. Pynchon (allowed on all hands to be deeph' versed in 
 the intricacies of the law) assured a gentleman he would 
 warrant success, and even undertake the conducting the 
 cause, if the proper use were made of your name. Mr. 
 Sewall's opinion is in unison with Mr. PN'uchon. I hate 
 dela}' and indecision, and shall lament if chicane and polit- 
 ical views must prevail over the purest intentions." 
 
 To this letter Mr. Murray responded, in terms descriptive 
 of much anguish of spirit, and his S3"mpathizing friend 
 immediately replied : — 
 
330 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 " I essa}^ not to communicate the impression which your 
 letter has made upon me. Would that pen and paper were 
 adequate to express all that could be conveyed by the 
 tongue. Shall I be condemned for being of an unsteady 
 disposition, or shall I be justified in mj^ change of senti- 
 ment from the variety of events? Be it as it may, it 
 matters not ; 3'our letter has produced another alteration 
 in my mind. Your conflict between the resolution you 
 have taken, and the interest of your friends, which I am 
 persuaded is very dear to you, is carried on in 3'our breast 
 to a degree of agony. I see how distressing it is for you, 
 even in appearance^ to stand forth and contend for what 
 you have so nobly held in sovereign contempt. In this point 
 of view it ceases to be a question. Let the idea of interest 
 perish. I had rather a large part of mine, dear as it is, 
 should be wrested from me, than that yow should eacrifice 
 an}^ portion of your peace or yoMY honor ; therefore I en- 
 treat 3'ou, my dear sir, do no violence to your feelings. 
 I thank God, the truth of our cause does not depend upon 
 the decision of a court of judicature ; and, admit the worsts 
 it is only what we are bidden to expect, that this world is 
 opposed to the other. Justice, however, notwithstanding 
 my sympathy for j^ou, urges me to repeat that our lawyers 
 see no rational prospect of success, but from 3'our becoming 
 a PRINCIPAL in the business. If you can bend your mind, 
 well ; take time to deliberate ; delays in law, perhaps, are 
 not so dangerous as in other affairs ; at any rate, I entreat 
 you to become more tranquil. I had rather make payment 
 to Parson Forbes than that you should thus suffer." 
 
 The preacher, under the direction of many importuning 
 friends, loaned his name, which step was to him a per- 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 331 
 
 manent subject of regret.* Trials succeeded trials, review 
 after review, at Salem, and at the Supreme Judicial Court, 
 held at Ipswich, in 1783, 1784, and 1785. 
 
 The pleaders seemed an invincible phalanx, and the 
 mind-bending eloquence of the Honorable Mr. King was 
 indeed a most potent aid. Men characterized the oratory 
 of that gentleman, as persuading, commanding, and like 
 an irresistible torrent bearing down every obstacle. Man}" 
 of the senior advocates seemed so to feel and acknowledge 
 the superiority of Mr. King, as to surrender to him the 
 right of closing causes of great importance ; and a high 
 law character declared, that, had he a cause depending, 
 of the greatest intricac\' and magnitude, to be plead before 
 the first tribunal in the world, he would prefer Mr. King as 
 his advocate to any man he had ever heard speak. Previous, 
 however, to the adjudication of 1785, when a verdict in 
 favor of the plaintiffs by the suflfrage of the jury (exclusive 
 of the judges) was obtained, the political career of this 
 celebri.'?d character removed him from their counsel, and 
 their cau^e was committed to, and ably supported by, Mr., 
 afterwards Governor, Sullivan, and Judge Tudor. The late 
 Chief Justice Parsons and Mr, Bradbury were counsel for 
 the defendants. The Gloucesterians, in their appeal to the 
 
 * This perhaps is expressed too strongly. It is true that Mr. Murray at lirst 
 very unwilliugly lent his name as the prosecutor; but afterwards, in view of 
 the good which resulted from the lawsuit, it became a subject of pleasant re- 
 flection to him. Hearw^hathe says, shortly after his return from England, in 
 1788: — 
 
 " I have been the happy instrument, of which the God of peace and mercy has 
 made use, to give a death wound to that hydra, parochial persecution. Persons 
 now under the denomination of Independents, who believe and bear witness to 
 the truth as it is in Jesus, are endowed with every privilege possessed by the 
 national church, or establislied religion; and, of course, my situation since my 
 return has been abundantly more eligible than it was previous to ray depart- 
 ure." — Letters and Sketches, ii. 351, 352. — T. W. 
 
•332 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 '• impartial public," pertinently observed that the decision 
 •of the question, agitated respecting them, ultimately in- 
 volved every citizen of the Commonwealth, and instant! 3' 
 affected the several religious orders of Episcopalians, 
 Baptists, Presbyterians, Sandemanians, Quakers, and ever}^ 
 other denomination of Chiistians, who, in this State, were 
 called sectaries. 
 
 Upon the objection that their teacher was not a preacher 
 of piet}^, religion, and morality, they mildly observed, 
 they were not convinced that the question could be de- 
 termined from a revision of the motives he offered as to the 
 rewards which are to be bestowed, or punishments inflicted, 
 in another world. They rather supposed it should be de- 
 cided upon the evidence of his urging the people to 
 piety and morality, as the foundation of the greatest 
 good of which their natures were capable, and as 
 a compliance with the will of their Almighty Creator 
 and Preserver. They believed that the Scriptures affirmed 
 that God w^ould punish men for sin, even in this world, 
 in a manner which would fai\ very /a?', overbalance the 
 pleasures to be derived from vice. They conceived that 
 the idea that it was necessary to the good order of govern- 
 ment, that the teachers of religion should thunder out the 
 doctrine of everlasting punishment to deter men from atro- 
 cious crimes, which they might otherwise commit in secret, 
 had long been hackneyed in the hands of men in power, 
 but without any warrant from reason or revelation. Reason, 
 without the aid of revelation, gave no intimation of a state 
 of retribution beyond the grave ; and the gospel brought 
 life and immortality to light ; nor, said tlie\% was it until 
 the Christian church w^as illegall}' wedded to State polic} , 
 that men in power dared to hurl the thunders of the Most 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 333 
 
 High at those who offended against government. But, 
 the}" added, should the point be maintained, that courts 
 and juries are authorized to determine whether the teacher 
 of a religious sect is a teacher of morality, from his opinion 
 either of the cause, mode, or state of men's happiness or 
 misery in another world, or from his opinion of the nature 
 or proportions of the rewards for virtue, or the punishments 
 for vice, in a future state, no sect or denomination could 
 be safe, it being a matter resting on opinion only, without 
 any earthly tribunal having the ability or authority to 
 settle the question. Suppose an Episcopalian teacher 
 should have an action in his name to recover the money paid 
 b}' his hearers. Perhaps he might be one who had subscribed 
 and sworn to the thirtj'-nine articles, the truth of icJiich is 
 well supported by act of Parliament. An objection might be 
 made from one of the articles, that tells us, God from all eter- 
 nity elected a certain number to happiness, and predestinat- 
 ed all the rest of the human race to everlasting misery ; and 
 this of his own sovereign will, without an}' regard to the merit 
 of the one, or the demerit of the other. A jury might be found 
 who would decide at once that this doctrine is subversive 
 of all morality and good order ; for, if the state of every man 
 be unalterably fixed from all eternity, and nothing done by 
 him can in any wise change the divine decree, why, then the 
 elect may conceive themselves justified in seeking to injure 
 those whom God from eternity has consigned to perdition. 
 But should an Arminian be on trial, and it appeared he 
 taught his people it was within their own power to procure 
 future happiness, a jury might not be able to distinguish 
 between the prescience and the foreordination of God ; and 
 it might be called impiety to allege that the infinitely wise 
 Being did not from all eternity know the ultimate fate of 
 
334 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 all bis creatures. It would at least be called derogatory to 
 the honor of the Most High, to suppose anything to be 
 contingent with him ; and therefore a teacher of such prin- 
 ciples might, in the eye of some persons, be viewed as a 
 teacher of impiet}^ and immoralit3\ From these, and 
 various other considerations, the Gloucesterians humbl}' 
 conceived that religion was a matter between an individual 
 and his God ; that no man had a right to dictate a mode of 
 worship to another ; that in that respect every man stood 
 upon a perfect equality ; and they believed that the paucity 
 of their numbers, and the prejudices of their enemies, had 
 pointed them out as proper objects for the first essay of 
 religious tyranny. Hence, they rather chose to seek redress 
 from the great law made b}' the people to govern the legis- 
 lature, than from the legislature itself; believing they 
 should betray the freedom of their country if they timidly 
 shrunk from a trial upon the great principles of the consti- 
 tution. Indeed, they seemed to consider themselves as the 
 Hampdens of our religious world. 
 
 In the course of the month of September, 1785, a writ 
 of review was again served, and the final decision was 
 referred and deferred until the June of 1786, when a conclu- 
 sive verdict was obtained in favor of the plaintiff's. Mr. 
 Murray w^as then in the State of Connecticut. AYe tran- 
 scribe an extract from a letter which wafted to the eye and 
 ear of the promulgator intelligence of the emancipation of 
 his adherents. 
 
 " Last Tuesday our party with their cloud of witnesses 
 were present, and called out at the bar of the Supreme 
 Judicial Court. The cause was opened by Mr. Bradbury, 
 and replied to by Mr. Hitchborne. The court adjourned to 
 the succeeding morning. I arrived just in season to hear it 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 335 
 
 taken up by Mr. Parsons, and closed b}^ Mr. Sullivan. I 
 wish for an opportunity to render my acknowledgments to 
 this gentleman. He displayed upon this d^y an eloquence 
 not less than Roman. The judges summed up the whole. 
 The first was ambiguous, the second was so trammelled and 
 inarticulate as to be scarcel}' understood ; but the remain- 
 ing three have acquired a glor}" which will be as lasting as 
 time. The conduct of Judge Dana attracted particular 
 notice. You remember he heretofore labored against us. 
 There appeared a disposition to traverse our counsel ; in his 
 comments on the constitution, those parts which made for 
 us he turned against us ; he asserted the tax was not per- 
 secuting, but legal ; religious societies were bodies corpo- 
 rate, or meant to be so ; sect and denomination were pro- 
 miscuously used and synonymous ; and the whole was 
 delivered with a sententious gravitj^ the result of faculties 
 laboriously cultivated by experience and study. But a 
 revolution had now passed in his mind, and when he noticed 
 that article in the constitution which directs moneys to be 
 applied to the teacher of his own religious sect, he said the 
 whole cause depended upon the construction of that clause. 
 He had heretofore been of opinion it meant teachers of 
 bodies corporate ; he then thought otherwise. As the con- 
 stitution was meant for a liberal purpose, its construction 
 should be of a most liberal kind. It meant in this instance 
 teachers of any persuasion whatever, Jew or Mahometan. 
 It would be for the jury to determine if Mr. Murray was a 
 teacher of piet}", religion, and morality. That matter, he 
 said, had in his opinion been fully proved. The only ques- 
 tion, therefore, before them was, if Mr. Murray came within 
 the description of the constitution, and had a right to 
 require the monej^ "It is my opinion," he decidedly 
 
336 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 declared, " that Mr. Murra}^ comes within the description 
 of the constitution, and has a right to require the mone3\" 
 The jury received the cause, and departed the court at half 
 past three. In the evening they returned with a declara- 
 tion that they could not agree. The chief judge with some 
 asperity ordered them to take the papers and go out again. 
 The}' continued in deliberation through the whole night. 
 Thursday morning they came in again, declaring their 
 unanimous agreement that the judgment obtained the pre- 
 ceding 5'ear was in nothing erroneous. Thus have we gained 
 our cause, after trials of such expectation and severity. 
 We rejoice greatly. ' It is the Lord's doings, and marvellous 
 in our eyes.' " 
 
 Mr. Murray continued uniformly to devote the summer 
 months to his multiplied adherents from Maryland to New 
 Hampshire. In what manner is copiously described in his 
 " LeUers and Sketches of Sermons." In the Februarj^ of 
 1783, we find the preacher, as usual, deeply interested in 
 the cause of his great Master, and suggesting in a letter 
 to his liiend and fellow-laborer, Mr. Noah Parker, the pro- 
 priety of an annual meeting of the heralds of redemption. 
 His words are : " Indeed, it would gladden my heart, if every 
 one who stands forth a public witness of the truth as it is in 
 Jesus, could have an opportunity of seeing and conversing 
 one .with anotlier at least once every year. I believe it 
 would be attended with very good effects. Think of it, m}' 
 friend, and let me know the result of 3^our deliberation. I 
 think these servants of the Most High might assemble one 
 year at Norwich, one 3'ear at Boston, and another at Ports- 
 mouth, or wherever it may be most convenient. I have 
 long contemplated an association of this description ; and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 337 
 
 the longer I deliberate, the more I am convinced of the 
 utility which would be annexed to the regulation." 
 
 In the September of 1785, the preacher, writing to the 
 same friend, thus expresses himself: " Although very much 
 indisposed, I am commencing a journe}^ to Oxford, where I 
 expect to meet a number of our religious brethren from 
 different towns in which the gospel has been preached and 
 believed, for the purpose of deliberating upon some plan to 
 defeat the designs of our enemies, who aim at robbing us 
 of the liberty wherewith the constitution has made us free. 
 On my return I shall communicate to you the result of our 
 meeting." Upon the close of the same month of Septem- 
 ber he thus writes : " Well, I have been to Oxford, and the 
 assembly convened there was trul}^ primitive. We delib- 
 erated, first, on a name ; secondly, on the propriety of 
 being united in our common defence ; thirdl}^, upon the 
 utility of an annual meeting of representatives from the 
 different societies ; and, fourthl}', upon keeping up a con- 
 stant correspondence b}' letter. Each of the particulars 
 is to be laid before the societies represented b}^ their del- 
 egates on this occasion, and, if approved, their approba- 
 tion to be announced b}^ circular letters to the several 
 societies. Mr. Winchester delivered a most excellent 
 sermon. His subject was, ' But though we, or an angel 
 from heaven preach any other gospel unto 3'ou, than that 
 which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.' 
 By the desire of Mr. Winchester, I closed the subject." 
 
 Thus was a convention formed, and, we ma}^ add, organ- 
 ized by the father of Universalism in this countrj'. But, 
 alas ! in no long time a root of bitterness sprang up, whicli 
 destro3ed his pleasure in the association. Yet, in the last 
 stage of his pilgrimage, he frequently regretted that his 
 
338 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 attendance upon this convention had not been more uniform ; 
 as he might possibl}- , by his j^ears and his experience, have 
 met and obviated the difficulties which distressed him. 
 Mr. Winchester, searching the Bible for arguments to con- 
 fute Mr. Murra}^, became himself a Universalist, but he 
 was a Universalist of the Chauncian school. He was 
 a man of pure morals, and an ardent lover of the Re- 
 deemer.* 
 
 At this period, in addition to the houses erected in 
 
 * At the convention at Oxford, there were represented societies at Gloucester, 
 Boston, Milford, and Oxford. AVe suppose that Mr. Murray was present at 
 each session up to 1791. He also journeyed to Bennington, Vt., to attend the 
 session of 1795. Wcfind him again at Sturbridge, in 1804." These two appear to 
 be the only sessions at which he was present after 1791. The " root of bitterness " 
 to which Mrs. Murray refers was probably the widening divergence of the views 
 of Ills brethren from those of Mr. ^Murray. Not only did these relate to exposi- 
 tions, but also to what he deemed fundamental doctrines. Some had already, 
 even before Mr. Ballou's day, adopted the sentiment that the painful consequen- 
 ces of siu are confined to this life. Others, retaining the doctrine of the Trinity, 
 rejected the theory of vicarious atonement ; while the general tendency of thought 
 among Universalists was in the direction of Unitarian views of the divine nature. 
 These various sentiments, conflicting with his own cherished ideas of gospel 
 truth, caused Mr. Murray much uneasiness. There was constant collision be- 
 tween his kindness of heart and fraternal spirit, and his Christian earnestness. 
 In his intercourse with his brethren, believed to be in error and leading others 
 astray, he was at times full of affectionateness, while at others his anxiety would 
 find expression. It is certain that he sometimes expressed himself very strongly 
 with reference to the views of his differing brethren. Writing of Mr. Winches- 
 ter's opinions, which included the idea of the satisfaction of divine justice, Mr. 
 Murray says, " I know no persons further from Christianity, genuine Christian- 
 ity, than such Universalists." And yet of Mr. Winchester himself, Mr. M. 
 always wrote and spoke in the kindest terms. But he was so earnest in his 
 faith, and each item of it, that he could not view with indifference the evident 
 departure of the church he had organized from it. He especially viewed " Socin- 
 ianism"witb abhorrence; and professed more sympathy with Calvinistic Par- 
 tialism than with Unitarian Universalism. Mr. Ballou's growing influence must 
 have been truly painful to him. But he continued with fidelity and zeal to pro- 
 claim the gospel of universal salvation, a ministry which he loved, upon the basis 
 of the prinuplis he had adopted, and to which he firmly adhered to the close 
 ofhislife. — G.L.D. 
 
'I i^^ 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 339 
 
 Gloucester and in Portsmouth, a convenient place for pub- 
 lic worship was procured b}^ the Universalists in the city 
 of Philadelphia, and in the cit}' of New York a church had 
 been purchased, which they forbore to open until it could 
 be dedicated b}^ the peace-speaking voice of the promulga- 
 tor. In the course of the autumn or winter of 1785, the 
 Bostonians purchased a meeting-house in Bennet Street. 
 Tliis house the}' enlarged and beautified ; here Mr. Murray 
 was occasionally their officiating minister.* And in the 
 
 * The building was of wood, and stood at the corner of Hanover and North 
 Bennet Streets, — the site of the present edifice, wliich was occupied by the First 
 Universalist Society till Sunday, May 29, 18G4. It was erected by a society of 
 which Rev. Samuel Mather was pastor, in 1741, — the year in which John Mur- 
 ray was born. The building was sold on the twenty-fifth of December, 1785, to 
 Shippie Townjend, James Prentiss, Jonathan Stoddard, John Page, and Josiah 
 Snelling, who purchased it in behalf of the small society of Universalists, which 
 bad been gathered under the ministrations of Mr. Murray, largely aided by the 
 Rev. Adam Strectir. The society had occupied the house a part of the time after 
 the death of Mr. Matlier, and were using it at the time of purchase. In the sum- 
 mer of 1792, the building was enlarged to its final capacity and thoroughly re- 
 modelled, preparatory to the settlement of Mr. Murray. In 1806 more repairs 
 were made ; new pews built in the south gallery ; those on the first floor were 
 altered, and " all the pews were painted one color," and the house itself was 
 painted within and without, and the entire structure was put in a state of thor- 
 ough repair. During these improvements the society worshipped in Faneuil 
 Hall, where Mr. Murray had preached the first time on the twenty-sixth of No- 
 vember, 1773, In 1824, the year in which Rev. Sebastian Streeter was settled, 
 parts of the building were remodelled, and " a splendid glass chandelier procured 
 and suspended at the centre of the ceiling." In 1828 the la^t repairs or altera- 
 tions of note were made. These consisted of a removal of the porch on Hanover 
 Street, a new corridor being made under the gsllery at the front end, with three 
 doors entering from the street; new staircases were made to the galleries, and 
 material alterations made for the accommodation of the choir. At a time sub- 
 sequent to this the lower floor was for the first time carpeted. The building 
 remained conditioned thus till June 24, 1838, when the last services were held. 
 An audience filling the house to repletion listened to a discourse by Rev. Sebas- 
 tian Streeter, founded on Psalm Ixxviii. 11th verse: " I will remember the works 
 of the Lord; surely I will remember thy wonders of old." On the next day the 
 work of demolition was commenced, preparatory to the erection of the building 
 which now occupies the same site. — Comnmnicated. 
 
340 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 metropolis of Pennsylvania, New York, and Massachusetts, 
 he was earnestly solicited to take up his residence. 
 
 Previous to the decision obtained by the Gloucesterians, 
 a prosecution was commenced against their preacher for 
 performing the marriage ceremon3\ Persuaded that he 
 was commissioned by his God to preach tiie gospel, and 
 knowing that he was ordained by the people to whom he 
 administered, he believed himself authorized to receive the 
 nuptial vows of as many among his adherents, as, furnished 
 with the requisite certificates, made application to him for 
 this purpose. A single instance was selected by his im- 
 placable foes, and a special verdict obtained, which con- 
 demned the preacher to pay a fine of fifty pounds. But 
 this was not all ; he had frequently performed the marriage 
 ceremony. Prosecution would most unquestionably suc- 
 ceed prosecution ; and the sum total of multiplied amerce- 
 ments would involve difficulties not easily surmounted. 
 Prudence whispered the persecuted man of God, that he 
 ought to absent himself until the interference of the Legis- 
 lature could be obtained ; and inclination pointed his way 
 over the pathless deep for the purpose of once more visit- 
 ing his native shores, holding sweet converse with a few 
 select friends, and folding to his filial bosom his venerable 
 mother. Assured of the propriety of a step so important 
 to his numerous American connections, on the sixth of Jan- 
 uary. 1788, he embarked for England. Noble provision 
 was made for him by the Bostonians, and all the expenses 
 of the voyage defrayed. Russell, the benevolent Russell, 
 was his friend, — Russell the philanthropist; who, like his 
 God, delighted in speaking peace to the sons and daughters 
 of adversity. Dear, sympathizing friend of man ! to the 
 children of sorrow thy memory is right precious. Had thy 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 341 
 
 stinted abilities been commensurate with thy will, the 
 voice of gladness would have resounded in every dwelling. 
 Nor Russell alone ; many pressed forward, whose liberal 
 hearts devised liberal things ; and substantial manifestations 
 of affection to the preaclier were abundant and munificent. 
 
 During Mr. Murray's absence, the Legislature was ad- 
 dressed. We regret that we cannot exhibit a complete 
 copy of the petitions which were presented ; but such ex- 
 tracts as we can command we transcribe : — 
 
 *' To the Honorable Senate, and the House of Represen- 
 tatives of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, assembled 
 in Boston in Februar}^, 1788 ; John Murray, of Gloucester, 
 in the county of Essex, would humbly represent to 3'our 
 Honors, that about seventeen 3^ears ago he came into this 
 country, which he considered as the asjlum of religion and 
 benevolence ; that on his arrival he began to preach the 
 gospel of peace, in doing which he met with man}^ cordial 
 friends ; some of whom, namel}^, a societ}^ of Christians in 
 Gloucester, distinguished themselves by their uniform at- 
 tachment to the message and the messenger. And after 
 your petitioner had occasionall}^ labored among them for a 
 considerable time, they associated together as an Indepen- 
 dent Church, built a meeting-house, and invited j^our peti- 
 tioner to reside with them as their settled minister ; and in 
 the month of December, in the year 1780, did appoint^ set 
 apart^ and ordain him to the work of the ministry', and to 
 be their teacher of piet}-, religion, and moralit}^ ; that ever 
 since that period he has considered himself, and has been 
 considered b3^ the people he has statedly labored amongst, 
 as their ordained minister, and though your petitioner has, 
 on sundry occasions, visited and labored amongst his 
 Christian friends in other places, it has alwaj s been with 
 
342 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUIiRAY. 
 
 the consent of his people, — they still looking on him and he 
 on himself as their ordained minister. It also appears, 
 that the people among whom your petitioner has frequentl}^ 
 labored, have considered him in the same light ; as they 
 have formally requested license of his people of Gloucester, 
 who, after consultation, granted that license. Another 
 circumstance that tended to confirm your petitioner in the 
 belief of his being an ordained minister in the strictest 
 sense of the word, and according to the letter and spirit of 
 the law, was the verdict given in favor of him and his peo- 
 ple, b}' the Honorable Supreme Court and jury, when, after 
 suffering much abuse from their persecuting opponents in 
 Gloucester, the}^ were reduced to the necessity of appljing 
 to the laws of their country for redress and protection. 
 But their opponents, dissatisfied with the verdict then ob- 
 tained, demanded a review ; after which review, the former 
 verdict was confirmed by the full and decided opinion of 
 the honorable court given in their favor. 
 
 " Being thus, by constitutional right and legal decision, 
 established as an independent minister, settled with, and 
 ordained b}', the joint suffrages of the members of that re- 
 ligious society, 3'our petitioner supposed his troubles from 
 his persecuting enemies were at an end. And upon con- 
 sulting counsel learned in the law, who gave it as their de- 
 cided opinion that he was an ordained minister, he pro- 
 ceeded to perform the ceremon\' of marriage to such of his 
 hearers who made application to him for that purpose. But 
 some of his opponents, unacquainted with the independent 
 mode of ordination, and presuming 3^our petitioner was not 
 ordained, because the same ceremonies were not made use 
 of in his ordination to the use of which they were accus- 
 tomed, brought the question of 3'our petitioner's right of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 343 
 
 officiating as an ordained minister before the judges of tlie 
 Supreme Judicial Court, who gave it as their opinion that 
 he was not an ordained minister, in the sense of the law, 
 as the forms of his ordination were not sufficientl}^ notori- 
 ous. Your petitioner, and the people who ordained him, 
 conceived his ordination was sufficiently notorious, as the 
 article was subscribed b}^ every member of the society ; and 
 the honorable court considered him a public teacher of piet}', 
 religion, and morality. The recent adjudication of the 
 honorable judges has involved 3'our petitioner's little flock, 
 in Gloucester, in expense and exquisite distress, and your 
 petitioner is ruined, unless 3'our Honors can interfere for 
 his relief. He must not onl}^ satisfy' the heav}^ penalty 
 alread}' forfeited, to his said opponents and prosecutors, but 
 he is liable to repeated forfeitures of like penalties for 
 ever}' marriage he has performed, since he has conceived 
 himself the ordained minister of that people, which must in- 
 volve his friends in expense, or consign him to a jail. Nor 
 is this all ; supposing his ordination invalid, he is, by the 
 letter of the law, liable to ignominious punishment. Now, 
 as equity is said to be that interference of the supreme 
 power, which alleviates, where the law, by being too com- 
 prehensive, has involved a case to which it was not perhaps 
 meant to extend ; and as he, and his people, his coun- 
 sel, and the world at large, supposed him ordained, as much 
 as an Episcopalian, or any other teacher, however different 
 the mode of ordination, he most humbly prays your Honors 
 lo indemnify him for any farther prosecution, for an}' mar- 
 riage he may have solemnized, under his supposed right ; 
 and by this means rescue him from the persecuting power 
 of his malignant adversaries, restore the exercise of relig- 
 ious rites to his oppressed and afflicted people, establish 
 
344 TAPE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 in the Commonwealth, in which he has long had his resi- 
 dence, that peace which has been broken b}" the malice of 
 his enemies. Your petitioner would in person have waited 
 on such committee of your Honors, as ma^^ be appointed to 
 consider this petition, but his well-grounded fears that pros- 
 ecutions would be multiplied upon him, by the zeal of his 
 religious adversaries, has necessitated him to absent him- 
 self from the country of his adoption, and his dear people, 
 until such time as the clemenc}^ of your Honors might be 
 obtained in his behalf." 
 
 The congregation in Gloucester addressed the Legislature 
 in a separate petition, and the judges, Sullivan and Dawes, 
 co-operated with Mr. Russell, in persevering efforts to ob- 
 tain a decision. The petitious were referred to a committee 
 of three gentlemen, of great respectability, who speedilj' 
 prepared and handed in their report, which was laid upon 
 the speaker's table, whence it was drawn forth by the 
 speaker of the House, James Warren, Esq., accepted by a 
 handsome majority, and sent up to the Senate for concur- 
 rence. The report was called up from the president's table 
 by the Hon. Mr. Dalton, when, after a debate of two hours, 
 it passed the Senate almost unanimously. 
 
 Meantime, the persecuted, and now nobly redressed 
 promulgator was speeding across the great waters. His 
 passage over the Atlantic was uncommonly boisterous. The 
 European winter of this 3'ear was very severe. More navi- 
 gation and lives were lost, in the Januarj' and February of 
 1788, upon the tremendous coast of Cornwall, than had ever 
 before been known in any one season. At length, however, 
 the chalky cliffs of his native shore met his gladdened view, 
 and the Heaven-protected vessel cast anchor in tha commo- 
 dious harbor of Falmouth. Mr. Murray was a.i entire 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MTRRAY. 345 
 
 stranger to this part of England ; but, by the Bostonians 
 and Gloucesterians, he bad been furnished with recommen- 
 datory letters. 
 
 Mr. Murray was received in Falmouth with fraternal 
 kindness. The Sunday succeeding his arrival the pulpit 
 of a gentleman, onue in connection with Mr. Whitefield, 
 was thrown open to him, where he preached forenoon and 
 afternoon, and continued delivering evening lectures until 
 February 14, when he resumed his journe}- by land to Lon- 
 don, proclaiming glad tidings from the pulpits, as he passed 
 along, to which free access was granted him. At Truro, 
 Cheswater, Tregony, Mevegesscy, St. Austle Looe, in the 
 several churches at Plyroouth, and Plymouth Dock, Exeter, 
 Wellington, etc., etc., he delivered his God-honoring, man- 
 restoring message. Several clergymen alwa3-s attended 
 his lectures, and one gentleman accompanied him even to 
 Exeter. We select a few of the subjects upon which he 
 delighted to dwell : The lights ordained b}- the Creator /or 
 signs^ Genesis iii. 15 ; the dress of the Jewish high priest ; 
 the first Psalm, the eighty-ninth Psalm, Zechariah ix. 9, 1st 
 John iv., and many passages drawn from Isaiah and the 
 Epistles of the Apostle Paul. His manner of passing his 
 time, and the devout propensities of his pious heart, may 
 be gathered from a short extract from his journal, — a 
 journal replete with beauty and interest to the christian- 
 ized mind, and containing descriptions and remarks worth}' 
 the writer : — 
 
 " I am delighted with walking through the fields ; the 
 gardens are so very beautiful, the fields so very green, the 
 linnets and goldfinches so busy on the hedges, preparing 
 their habitations. These songsters of the groves, which 
 are vocal on ever}^ spray, are to me like old and pleasing 
 
346 . LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 acquaintance, not seen nor heard of for a great number of 
 years, while the fascinating choristers, in whom I have 
 taken so nmch delight, seem, by their cheering notes, to 
 welcome me as I pass along their native fields and hedges. 
 The primroses, and a variety of other sweet flowers, are 
 alread}^ in full bloom ; in short, everything wears a cheerful 
 appearance. How grateful ought I to be to the Author of 
 every good, who, in this dear countr}^, follows me with the 
 same loving-kindness and tender mercy with which he fol- 
 lowed me in the dear country I have left ! The numerous 
 friends with whom I occasionally sojourn are as anxious 
 to c^etain me with them, and lament the necessity of my 
 de; arture, precisely as did ray American friends ; their 
 Jicarts swell with transport, while I simply declare the gos- 
 pel of the grace of God ; and they reiterate their expres- 
 cions of admiration of the gracious words which God 
 enables me to utter, in like manner as did the good Glou- 
 cesterian Elder, Mr. Warner, on my first visit to that place. 
 We mingle our supplications and addresses, our thanks- 
 givings and our praises, and our hearts burn within us, 
 while we converse of the goodness of our God, and the 
 gracious purposes of redeeming love. Surely it would be 
 ill-judged, if not cruel, in such circumstances, to dash the 
 cup of felicity from the lips of these humble dependents 
 upon the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, because perhaps 
 chey do not see to the end of the divine purposes. I never 
 will preach anything but the gospel of God our Saviour, 
 anywhere ; but I will leave those dear people to draw their 
 conclusions, and, in the interim, I will feed them with the 
 jincere milk of the word, that thej^ may grow thereby The 
 '^habitants of this place (Falmouth) are a very friendly, re- 
 ligious people. May God grant them peace, and give 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 847 
 
 them abundant consolation in believing ! The people 
 everj' where hear with American attention. Clergymen, 
 wherever I sojourn, are generall}^ my hosts. Gospel, un- 
 adulterated gospel, is pleasant to the believing soul. I 
 content raj^self with showing that man is lost by sin ; that 
 the lr.w is the ir.inist. ation of death ; that the gospel is a 
 divine declaration of life, by Jesus Christ, to ever}^ creat- 
 ure. Yes, I will oontinue to preach the gospel freeh' to 
 every creature. I will endeavor to point out its glories, 
 and the many advantages attendant on believing the divine 
 report. This, by the grace of God, shall still be the busi- 
 ness of m}^ life. Many clerg3'men attend me in my prog-" 
 iesi5; no less than seven have been among my audience 
 at one time ; and on my descending from the pulpit, they 
 usually take my hand, and devouth^ thank me for bearing 
 so good a testimony for Jesus Christ — for speaking so well 
 >..f the Redeemer, a(kling, that it is a pity I should do any- 
 thing but preach. Numbers flock around me, and, in fact, 
 xere I an angel descended from above, I could not be fol- 
 ^oved with more uniform attention." 
 
 London is two hundred and twenty miles from Falmouth. 
 The preacher did not reach that metroplis until the six- 
 teenth of March, and his time was most delightfully passed 
 in the service of God the Saviour. Upon one occasion, 
 his entrance into one spacious place of worship was hailed 
 by ihe musical choir devoutly chanting : — 
 
 " Blow ye the trumpet, blow 
 The gladly solemn sound; 
 Let all the nations know, 
 
 To earth's remotest bound, 
 The year of Jubilee is come; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home." 
 
348 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Yet even in this short visit to his native island, the pro- 
 mulgator went through evil as well as good report. "We 
 subjoin a specimen of each. A gentleman of Falmouth, 
 writing to his friend in Tregon}^ thus expresses himself: — 
 
 " Mr. Murra}' will shortly be in 3'our town. We have at- 
 tended upon him here with inexpressible delight. Three 
 such sermons as he has delivered, my ears never before 
 heard ; such a preacher never before appeared in this town. 
 I am convinced his ideas are all his own. I never heard 
 anything like them ; his mind seems clearl}^ informed, and 
 his heart very much warmed by the love of God." But 
 the following advertisement appeared in a London paper : — 
 
 " Mr. Murray is an American, the most popular preacher 
 in the United States. In the conclusion of one of his ser- 
 mons, preached on that continent, he endeavored to enforce 
 with all the powers of eloquence, the necessit}^ of establish- 
 ing in those States the same Ol3^mpic games, which were 
 for many ages established among the Grecians." But 
 this was not all ; it was storied that he had left America in 
 consequence of a criminal prosecution. 
 
 Arriving at London, he was once more enriched b}^ the 
 maternal benediction. He found his venerable parent in 
 the enjoyment of a fine green old age, and again she re- 
 joiced in the presence of her son. In London, and at 
 Harastead, in the meeting-house once occupied b}^ Mr. 
 Whitefield, he delivered his message of peace. Patronized 
 in the city of London by an opulent famil}^ who cherished 
 him as a son, he was strongl}'^ solicited once more to take 
 \ip his abode in that metropolis ; but the providence of 
 God had not so decreed, and, after continuing there a short 
 time, he departed thence, and journeyed to Portsmouth, for 
 the purpose cf being in readiness to commence his return 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 349- 
 
 to America. In Portsmouth, he was again a solitar}- stran- 
 ger ; but he had not been more than four hours in that cel- 
 ebrated and important emporium, ere he was engaged by a 
 respectable clergj'man to preach a lecture, which had been 
 previously announced. In Portsmouth he tarried two 
 weeks, preaching frequently. On his first lecture, he vras 
 solicited b}^ a Doctor Miller to accompany him to his habi- 
 tation, where he abode until he departed from that town. 
 The circle of his acquaintance soon became large, among 
 whom he numbered \evy respectable friends. When the 
 clergymen, with whom Mr. Murray associated during his 
 last residence in England, became ascertained of his full 
 and comprehensive vieics of the magnitude and extent of the 
 redeeming plan, although very few adopted his ideas, yet 
 they still continued warmly attached to the preacher ; and 
 the letters thej addressed to him, after his return to Amer- 
 ica, which are still in being, would fill a volume. A few 
 of the preachers' responses are contained in the volumes of 
 " Letters and Sketches of Sermons." 
 
 Mr. Murray proceeded to Cowes, upon the Isle of TVight,. 
 and from thence embarking for America, commenced his 
 TOj'age with a fair wind, which soon changing, thet were 
 under the necessity of dropping anchor in Portland harbor, 
 where they were long wind-bound. His passage was un- 
 commonly protracted ; but, fortunately, the passengers 
 united to give it ever}' charm of which society is suscepti- 
 ble ; and, when we add that our late respectable President, 
 the Honorable John Adams and lady were of the number, 
 the pleasures of the vo^-age will be nothing doubted. 
 Books, music, and conversation varied the tedium of the 
 passing weeks ; nor was the preacher debarred the exercise 
 of his sacred avocation. Mr. Adams requested he would 
 
SdO life of rev. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 oJ3iciate as their teacher, ever}'' Sunday, and accordingly 
 the ship's compau}-, and the passengers, were, upon this 
 hol}'^ da}', collected round him. His first subject was the 
 third commandment. They united in their addresses to 
 the throne of grace, and in hymning the praises of their 
 God. 
 
 Again reaching the shores of this New World, the voice 
 of exoneration and of freedom bade him welcome ; and the 
 glad acclamations of joy resounded among his congratulat- 
 ing and most affectionate friends. A summons from the 
 Governor to attend a select party at his house met him on 
 the day of his arrival, and ever}- liberal mind partook t!:e 
 rational hilarity of the moment. 
 
 The Gloucesterians, determining no more to hazard iu- 
 vidious prosecution, and its train of evils, appointed a day, 
 the Christmas of 1788, on which to renew the ordination of 
 their pastor ; and, after assembling, and effectuating their 
 purpose, that they might bestow upon the solemn transac- 
 tion all possible publicity, they procured its insertion in 
 the "Centinel" of January 3, 1789, from which paper we 
 transcribe it verbatim : — 
 
 " Last Thursday week, Mr. John Murray was ordained 
 to the pastoral charge of the Independent Church of 
 Christ in Gloucester. After Mr. Murray had prayed, and 
 one of the consjreofation had announced the intention of the 
 meeting, and presented him formally with a call, Mr. 
 Murray replied : — 
 
 " ' Persuaded of the truth of the declaration, made by the 
 compilers of the shorter catechism, that God's works of 
 providence are his most holy, wise, and powerful, preserv- 
 ing and governing all his creatures^ and all their actions ; 
 and having a full conviction that the affairs of the church 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 351 
 
 are, iu an especial manner, under his immediate direction ; 
 and that you, my Christian friends and brethren, are now, 
 as formerl}', under the directing influence of that divine 
 Spirit, which, taking of the things of Jesus, and showing 
 ihem unto me, constrained me to become a preacher of the 
 everlasting gospel, and directed you to set me apart^ and 
 ordain me to be 3'our minister ; I now again, with humble 
 gratitude to m}- divine Master, and grateful affection for 
 3'ou, m}^ long-tried and faithful Christian friends and breth- 
 ren, most cordially accept of this call.' 
 
 " One of .the committee then read the vote of the church : 
 ' Resolved, that we, the proprietors of the independent 
 meeting-house in Gloucester, the members of th(i church 
 and congregation usually attending there for the purpose 
 of divine worship, do, b}" virtue of that power vested in us 
 by the great High Priest of our profession, the Bishop of 
 our souls, and the great and onl}" Head of the church ; and 
 according to the institutions of the first churches in New Eng- 
 land, and in perfect conformity to the third article of the dec- 
 laration of rights, in this public manner, solemnl}' elect i ud 
 ordain^ constitute and appoint Mr. John Murray*, of ?ald 
 Gloucester, clerk, to be our settled minister, pastor, and 
 teaching elder ; to preach the word of God, and to incul- 
 cate lessons and instructions of piety, religion, and rd-.rali- 
 ty, on the congregation ; and to do, perform, and discharge 
 all the duties and oflfices, which of right belong to any 
 other minister of the gospel, or public teacher of piet}', 
 religion, and moralit}^ ; and it is hereb}^ intended, and un- 
 derstood, that the authorit}' and rights hereby given to the 
 said Mr. John Murraj^, to be our settled ordained minister, 
 and public teacher, are to remain in full force, so long as 
 he shall continue to preach the word of God, and dispense 
 
352 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 instructions of piety, religion, and morality, conformable 
 to our opinions, and no longer.' 
 
 " The committee then solemnly' presented him the Bible, 
 saj^ng on its presentation, ' Dear sir, we present you these 
 sacred Scriptures as a solemn seal of j'our ordination to 
 the ministrj' of the New Testament, and the sole director}^ 
 of your faith and practice.' His acceptance was affecting ; 
 as what comes from the heart reaches the heart. 
 
 " ' With my full soul I thank our merciful God for this 
 inestimable gift. With grateful transport I press it to my 
 bosom. I receive it as the copy of m^^ Father's Will, 
 as the deed of an incorruptible inheritance ; as the unerr- 
 ing guide to my feet, and lantern to my paths. Dear, 
 precious treasure, thou hast been my constant support in 
 ever}^ tr^dng hour, and a never-failing source of true con- 
 solation. I thank 3^ou, most sincerely do I thank 3'ou, for 
 this confirming seal, this sure directory ; and I pra^^ that 
 the Spirit which dictated these sacred pages, may enable me 
 to make the best use thereof." A sermon by Mr. Murray, 
 from Luke v. 2, succeeded, ' The harvest is great, but the 
 laborers are few,' etc. etc. 
 
 '' The solemnit}^, attention, and Christian demeanor that 
 attended the whole transaction of the ordination, and every 
 other occurrence of the day, gave universal satisfaction to 
 a numerous audience." 
 
 Da3's of tranquillity now succeeded ; weeks, months, nay, 
 years, rolled on, and harmon}", unbroken harmony, presided. 
 Religion shed her balm}^ influence, her mind-irradiating, 
 passion-subduing consolations ; and we were ready to say, 
 stability dwelleth even in our times. But, alas ! we too 
 soon experienced that " bliss, sublunary bliss^" was not the 
 durable possession of mortality. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 353 
 
 It was in this interval of most pleasant memor}', that Mr. 
 Murray, in the summer of the year 1790, then on a visit to 
 his Pennsylvania,* Jersey, and New York connections, was 
 
 * In a letter to her parents written by Mrs. Murray from Philadelphia, June 19, 
 1790, she speaks of tlie position of Universalism in that city : " The sentiments 
 of the Universalists are growing every day more respectable in this city. The 
 fixmily of Dr. Franklin are among the foremost of our favorers. Mrs. Bache, 
 the doctor's daugliter, says it was her father's opinion, that no system in the 
 Christian world was so effectually calculated to promote the interests of society, 
 as that doctrine which shows a God reconciling a lapsed world unto himself. 
 The Philadelphiaus are exceedingly anxious to fix 3Ir. Murray among them. 
 At first a genteel house, rent free for life, with a salary of £200 a year, was pro- 
 posed to him. They now propose £250; and finally they add, if he will pledge 
 his word to return to them as soon as he can adjust his affairs at the eastward, 
 they will ensure him, exclusive of his house-rent, a yearly income of £400 [or 
 $1,066.67]. The church belonging to the Universalists in this metropolis, not 
 being spacious enough to contain the number who flock to hear him, application 
 was made to the Itev. Dr. Smitli, Provost, or President of the college or academy, 
 for the use of a building belonging to it, and known by the name of the College 
 Hall. A special meeting of the trustees was, upon this occasion, called, and 
 unanimous consent obtained. Dr. Smith sent a message, requesting Mr. Mur- 
 ray's attc::dance at his house. Mr. M , you will not doubt, obeyed the sum- 
 mons, when he was escorted to the Hall by the President and Professors, who 
 waited upon him to the pulpit stairs, and then took their seats in the assembly. 
 
 Mr. j>I , after delivering a discourse, did not immediately appoint a future 
 
 lecture. The President addressed him : < Sir, I expected you would have pub- 
 lished other opportunities ; for you must know, that the use of the Hall is yours, 
 when, and as frequently, as you please.' And accordingly in the course of the 
 week, large and respectable audiences are collected there. Besides the Presi- 
 dent, Messrs. Magaw, Rogers, Bond, Macdual, and Andrews, regularly attend, 
 
 and Mr. M receives from them the utmost politeness On Sunday 
 
 Mr. M is at the Lodge, the cLx^irch of the Universalists [situated on Second 
 
 Street, where the Pennsylvania Bank now stands] . The Rev. Dr. Blair is a con- 
 firmed convert to Universalism. Relly is his oracle ; though I was informed by 
 Dr. Rush, that he has in many respects gone beyond, reconciling difficulties 
 which Relly h?.d not attempted. Dr. Hush is a man of sense and letters, and is 
 well known in the medical and literary world. I am happy that I can name Dr. 
 Rush as an open, arowed professor of, and ornament to, the religion of Jesus. 
 j*ddressing 3Ir. 31 this morning, with much candor he thus expressed him- 
 self: ' "Why, my dear sir, you have stood much alone; how have you buffeted 
 the storm ? What a torrent of prejudice, tradition, malevolence, and calumny 
 you have had to encounter I Twenty years ago I heard your name. Tou were 
 23 
 
354 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 "by the Universalists convened in the city of Philadelphia, 
 associated with Mr. William Eugene Imley, to present an 
 address to the immortal Washington, then President of 
 the United States. 
 
 *** [I suppose this to have been the time at which Mr. 
 Murra^^ visited the grave of his *' earliest American friends- 
 Thomas Potter. His reflections at that event are recorded 
 in his " Letters and Sketches," vol. i. pp. 334-341. The 
 circumstance deserves a place in his " Life ; " and would, 
 in all probability, have been introduced b}^ himself, had he 
 been permitted to have filled up the narrative to the time 
 of his sickness. He carried it forward only to the close of 
 the year 1774, — the remainder was written by his widow. 
 We shall take the libert}' to introduce the passages here. 
 
 " My ride to this place has been very disagreeable, the 
 heat so intense, and the sand so deep, and no hospitable 
 
 friend P in view. Dear, honored friend, the first 
 
 patron with which I was blessed in this New World, how 
 indulgent wert thou to me ! — with how much benevolence 
 didst thou cherish me, when a stranger in thy mansion, and 
 how didst thou labor for my advancement ! 
 
 " Many aged persons, who were in the habit of attend- 
 ing my labors, have visited me. They express their honest 
 sensibility in a variety of wa3^s ; but all are overjoyed to 
 see me. They are solicitous to pour into my ear the story 
 of their accumulated sufierings. They imagine they shall 
 reap pleasure from commiseration ; yet what, alas ! can 
 
 preaching in Bachelor's Hall. No consideration would have induced me to have 
 come within a mile of the place; and had I met you in the street, I should not 
 have conceived it could have been you, except I had found jou with the cloven 
 foot and with horns. But now how peaceful to myself is the revolution ! The Bi- 
 ble is a consistent book, and everything that is excellent it contains.' " — G.L.D 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 355 
 
 helpless pity do? There is, however, much pleasure in 
 communicating our sorrows to a sympathizing friend. 
 
 " I am now in the house that once belonged to the ven- 
 erable P , to m}' friend P . I am not, however, an 
 
 occupant of the same apartment which he fitted up for my 
 use, and directed me to consider as m}^ own. That apart-, 
 ment, and the greater part of the house, is devoted to 
 those w^ho loved not him, and knew not me. Alas ! what 
 is this world? How often we thus exclaim, thus ask, 
 because we imagine it is not what it should be. Were it 
 under our direction it would be better managed ; but it is 
 not, nor never will be. One thing is certain, on life there 
 is little or no dependence. This dear man, this American 
 • MAN OF ROSS,' was suddenly snatched from the scenes of 
 time, deprived instantly of reason, and in a few hours of 
 life. ' His soul proud science never taught to stray.' But 
 he was a gem of the first qualil-y, and notwithstanding the 
 crust, which from his birth enfolded him, yet by the rubs he 
 suffered from the pebbles among which he was placed, this 
 crust was so far broken as to emit, upon almost every 
 occasion, the native splendor of his intellect. Had this 
 man in early life received the culture of nature's hand- 
 maid, what a luminous figure he would have made ! But 
 the God of nature had stamped upon his soul the image of 
 himself, unbounded benevolence. 
 
 " I reached this place yesterday evening ; the sun was 
 just setting, and as I passed through the well-known fields, 
 and saw them rich and flourishing in all the pride of nature, 
 I felt an irrational kind of anger glow at my heart, that 
 those fields should look so exceeding gay, when their 
 master had taken an everlasting leave of every terrestrial 
 «cene. The depression upon m}^ spirits, as I reached the 
 
356 LIFE OF REV. JCjiJS MORRA. . 
 
 house, was indescribable. I beheld one ai.d anoi:ner, '^'iio?- 
 faces I had never before seen. An ugly mastiC growkd a* 
 me as I passed ; and this is the first time, said T, that 1 
 was ever growled at, in this place, bj^ any of thy kind ; 
 but he was soon silenced by a lad who was brought up by 
 my friend. ' Lord bless me ! — Is not this Mr. Murray ? ' 
 — ' Why, Matt, do you remember me ? ' — ' Remember yor 
 sir? Remember Mr. Murraj^? Yes, indeed, sir.' — 'This 
 dog does not. Matt I ' — ' But he would if he had lived in 
 master's time; but he is a stranger.' — 'They are all 
 strangers, Matt, are the}^ not?' — 'Indeed the}^ are all, 
 but my mistress and myself.' — 'And where is 3'our mis- 
 tress, Matt? ' — 'I will call her, sir.' — ' No, m}^ goo<i lad, 
 not yet. What have you for m}^ horse ? ' — ' Nothing but 
 
 grass.' — ' Nothing at Mr. P 's but grass ? ' — ' Ah ! sir, 
 
 it is not now the house of Mr. P .' — ' True, true, true. 
 
 Leave me, my good lad, leave me.' 
 
 " I walked round the house, entered every avenue, looked 
 at m}^ garden ; it was made for me. The trees, the fi^wer- 
 ing shrubs, have run wild, and the whole surface of the 
 spot is covered with weeds. This pleased me ; just so I 
 would have it. 
 
 " This is the tree planted b}^ my own hand. IIow 
 flourishing ! But where \^ the other, planted directly 
 opposite at the same moment, by uy friend ? Alas ! like it« 
 planter, dead ! On this very spot I first saw the philan- 
 thropist. ' Can you assist me, sir ? ' — ' Yes, sir.' — ' On what 
 terms ? ' — 'I receive no payment, sir. He who gave to me 
 did not charge me anything ; you are welcome at the price.' 
 Here our acquaintance commenced ; but it is ended, at 
 least in the present state. I shall see him no more on 
 this side eternity. On this seat we sat, and there tne tear 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 357 
 
 of transport rolled down bis furrowed cheek when we con- 
 versed upon that redemption which is in Christ Jesus. 
 Under that oak we have frequently sat, contemplating the 
 shadow from the heat, the hiding-place from the storm. 
 At yonder gate he bid me farewell, and wiped his venerable 
 eye. At ^^onder gate I turned, he waved his hand, — 'God 
 Almighty bless j^ou ; you will come again. Forget not 
 3'our friends, your ancient friend.' — ' If I do,' said m}' 
 heart, ' may my right hand forget its cunning.' But I 
 forgot thee, good old man, too long I forgot thee ! And 
 now that I am at last returned, thou art not here to bid 
 me, in the politest, that is, in the sincerest manner, 
 welcome. 
 
 " Mrs. P approached. She lifted up her hands and 
 
 eyes in speechless anguish, seated herself, changed color — 
 no mattei- — the worst is past. I have visited the meeting- 
 house reared by his hand for the worship of his God. It 
 is embosomed in a grove of stately oaks, all trimmed, and 
 in beautiful order. Under this shade reposeth the man by 
 whom the house was raised, by whom the grove was planted. 
 I beheld his grave. It was not a marble, a hai'd marble^ 
 that informed me whose dust lay there ; it was a feeling 
 mechanic, who, having experienced much kindness from the 
 deceased, wept when he told me that spot contained the 
 dead. I carefully examined the grave, to see if any weeds 
 grew there. No, no, they had no business there. I could 
 not pluck a noxious nettle from his grave. There grew 
 upon it a few wild flowers, emblematic of the mind that 
 once inhabited this insensate clay. At the foot of the 
 grave stands the most majestic and flourishing of all the 
 oaks which surround the grave. It was once on the point 
 of falling a sacrifice to the axe-man, but my friend solicited 
 
358 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 ^ov its continuance, pronouncing that it would flourish when 
 '.e should sleep beside it. And having thus rescued it, 
 added m}^ informant, he has since paid it particular atten- 
 tion, which is the reason of its so far surpassing the other 
 trees. 
 
 "Peace, peace to th}^ spirit, thou friendl}^, feeling, faith- 
 ful man ! Thy dust is laid up to rest, near the house thou 
 didst build for God, but thy spirit rests vjitli God in the 
 house built by him for tJiee, and though our dust ma}' not 
 meet again, our spirits will meet and rejoice together in 
 those regions of blessedness, where pain can find no en- 
 trance, where death can no more usurp dominion, where no 
 tear of sorrow shall ever dim the jo^^-brightened e3'e, for we 
 shall part no more forever. I said there was no nettle on 
 this grave. One thing, however, was very remarkable. A 
 gourd had crept along until it came to, and spread over, his 
 ^rave, mixing its foliasje with the sweet-scented flowers 
 that grew thereon. 
 
 " Never was place better calculated for melanchoh^ mus- 
 ing than this spot, so thick the grove around. The little 
 neat ejraveyard at the end, the shutters of the house for 
 public worship all closed up, the lonely situation inviting 
 the birds, — their music serves to mellow the scene ; all, all, 
 is most truly for solemn meditation fit. 
 
 " By the following article in the will of my deceased 
 fi lend, this house of worship becomes my propertj^ : — 
 
 •' ' I'he house built by me for the worship of God, it is my 
 will that God be worshipped in it still, and for this purpose 
 I will that my ever dear friend, Mr. John Murray, preacher 
 f '.he gospel shall possess it, having the sole direction, 
 diocosai, and management of said house, and one aero of 
 land 'ipon which it stands, and b}' which it is surrounded.* 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 359 
 
 '• In this house of worship I have once more preached. 
 1\ is full two years since divine service has been performed 
 there. I selected for my subject, 1 Corinthians vi. 20 : 
 ' For ye are bought with a price : therefore glorify God in 
 your bod}^, and in 3'our spirit, which are God's.' " 
 
 At tlie close of this sermon Mr. Murray adverted in the 
 following terms to the character of Mr. Potter : — 
 
 " Through yonder open casement, I behold the grave of 
 a man, the recollection of whom swells m}' heart with grati- 
 tude, and fills my e3^es with tears. There sleeps the sacred 
 dust of him who well understood the advantages resulting 
 from the public worship of the true God. There rests the 
 ashes of him who glorified God in his body, and in his 
 spirit, which he well knew were the Lord's. He believed 
 he was bought with a price, and therefore he declared that 
 all he was, and had, were righteouslj- due to the God who 
 had created, and purchased him with a price all price be- 
 3'ond. There rests the precious dust of the friend of 
 strangers, whose hospitable doors were ever open to the 
 destitute, and him who had none to relieve his sufferings. I 
 myself was once thrown on these shores, a desolate stran- 
 ger. This Christian man brought me to his habitation. 
 ' God,' said he, ' hath blessed me ; he has given me more than 
 a competency, and he has given me a heart to devote my- 
 self, and all that I have, to him. I have built a place for 
 his name and worship. I would,' continued the faithful man, 
 ' erjct this temple myself, with what God had given me. My 
 neighbors would have lent their aid ; but I refused assist- 
 ance from an}' one. I would myself build the house, that 
 God might be worshipped without contention, without in- 
 *^^erruption ; that he might be worshipped by all whom ho 
 SiiOuld vouchsafe to send.' 
 
360 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 " This elegant house, my friends, the first friends who 
 hailed m}^ arrival in this countr}-, this elegant house, with 
 its adjoining grove, is yours. The faithful founder be- 
 queathed it to me, that none of 3'ou may be deprived of it. 
 His dust reposes close to this monument of his piety ; he 
 showed you b}^ his life what it was to glorifj^ God in bod\' 
 and spirit ; and he has left 3'ou this house that j^ou ma}" 
 assemble here together, listen to the voice, and unite to 
 chant the praises of the God who created, who has bought 
 3^ou with a price, and who will preserve j'ou 
 
 " Dear, faithful man ! when last I stood in this place, he 
 was present among the assembly" of the people. I marked 
 his glistening eye ; it always glistened at the emphatic 
 name of Jesus. Even now I behold in imagination his ven- 
 erable countenance ; benignity is seated on his brow ; his 
 mind is apparentl}^ open and confiding ; tranquillity reposeth 
 upon his features, and the expression of each var3'ing emo- 
 tion evinceth that faith which is the parent of enduring 
 peace, of that peace which passeth understanding. 
 
 " Let us, my friends, imitate his philanthropj', his piet}", 
 his charity. I may never again meet 3'ou, until we unite to 
 swell the loud hallelujahs before the throne of God. But 
 to hear of 3'our faith, of 3"0ur perseverance, of 3'our brother- 
 I3' love, of your works of charit3', will heighten ray enjo3"- 
 ments, and soothe m3" sorrows, even to the verge of m3^ 
 mortal pilgrimage. Accept my pra3'ers in 3'our behalf, 
 and let us unite to supplicate our common God and Father 
 for the mighty blessing of his protection." T. W.] 
 
 And now a large number of Mr. Murra3''s first friends in 
 Gloucester were numbered with the dead. He had liimself 
 again become the head of a family. The limes were op- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 361 
 
 pressive, and be considered it his dut}^ to provide for those 
 of whom he had taken charge. The Bostonians were solicit- 
 ous to hail the preacher as their settled pastor ; and it was 
 certain his usefulness would, in the metropolis, be more ex- 
 tensive. A partial separation from the Gloucesterians was, 
 b}" mutual consent, effectuated. It was, however, stipulated, 
 that Mr. Murra}' should occasionally visit them, and that 
 they should be allowed to command his presence, upon 
 ever}" distressing or important exigence ; and the distance 
 being no more than an easy ride of a few hours, the adjust- 
 ment was accomplished without much difficult^". Yet did 
 the preacher continue dissatisfied, until the establishment 
 of his successor, in the midst of his long-loved and early 
 Mends. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Thomas Jones, a native of Wales, whom 
 he had induced, by his representations, to unite with him 
 in his American mission, is a gentleman of great respecta- 
 bility, of the purest morals, and high in the ranks of integ- 
 rity. Mr. Jones was educated at the college established 
 by the Countess of Huntington ; in which connection he 
 continued until his attachment to the doctrines of the gos- 
 pel, in their most unlimited import, became the signal for 
 bis exclusion. The installation of Mr. Jones, in Glouces- 
 ter, gladdened the heart of the philanthropic preacher, and 
 his satisfaction was complete. The Gloucesterians love 
 and respect their pastor, and their unanimity is unbroken. 
 They have erected a new and elegant house of worship. 
 In Salem also, and in Portsmouth and Charlestown, in New 
 York and Philadelphia, commodious buildings are reared 
 to the honor of God our Saviour. 
 
 On Wednesday, 23d of October, 1793, the installation of 
 Mr. Murray took place in the Universal meeting-house u- 
 
362 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUBRAi:. 
 
 Boston ; the presiding deacon (Oliver W. Lane) addressed 
 the church and congregation : — 
 
 " Brethren, it having pleased the Father of mercies to 
 unite in bonds of Christian love and affection the hearts of 
 the people usually worshipping in this place, in the choice 
 of Mr. John Murray for their pastor and teacher ; we have 
 accordingly assembled together at this time and place, for 
 the solemn purpose of ratifying here below what we hun:- 
 bl}^ trust is already recorded in heaven. It is the duty of 
 all men, at all times, and in all places, humbly to implore^ 
 the direction of the great Head of the church, in all their 
 lawful undertakings." (Then followed an appropriate prayer 
 by Mr. Murray.) After which, the deacon demanded of 
 the church and congregation, as they had heretofore ex- 
 pressed their desire that Mr. Murray should become their 
 pastor and teacher, if, at this time they continued of that 
 mind, they would publicly confirm it, b}^ vote — wJiich was 
 unanimous. He then requested Mr. Murray's answer, 
 which being given in the affirmative, he concluded his ad- 
 dress : " I, therefore, in the name and behalf of this church 
 and congregation, — supported by the constituti n of this 
 Commonwealth^ — declare you, John Murray, tc ] cthe pas- 
 tor and teacher of this First Universal Church in Boston ; 
 and in their name I present unto 3'ou the Sacred Volume, 
 as the rule of your faith and practice, and as containing a 
 perfect and complete revelation of the perfections and will 
 of God ; and I furthermore declare unto 3-ou, tK2,t so long 
 as you continue to preach the gospel as delineated I_ these 
 sacred pages, which is glad tidings of great joy to every 
 creature, as the purchase of the blood of l_;manuel, so 
 long you shall be considered as our pastor, and no longer. 
 And now, dearly beloved sir, ' I charge thee, therefore^ 
 
LIFE Om REV. JOHN MURRAY. 363 
 
 hefore God and the Lcrd Jesus Christ, who shall judge the 
 quick and the dead at his appearing, and his kingdom, to 
 preach the word, be instant in season, out of season ; re- 
 prove, rebuke, exhort, with all longsufferiug, and doctrine. 
 In all things showing thyself a pattern of good works ; in 
 doctrine showing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, sound 
 speech that cannot be condemned ; that he that is of the con- 
 trary part ma}' be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of 
 you. A workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly 
 dividing the word of truth.' And now, sir, commending 
 you with the church and congregation, over which the Holy 
 Ghost hath made you overseer to the care and protection 
 of Him ' that loved us and washed us from our sins in his 
 own blood,' earnestly beseeching Him to build us all up 
 in unity of the one Spirit and in the bond of peace, — now 
 unto Him who is abundantly able to perform all these things 
 for us, and to present us all faultless before the throne of 
 an Infinite Majest}', be all honor, glory, dominion, and 
 power, throughout the ages of time, and a wasteless eter- 
 nity. Amen." 
 
 Mr. Murray's reply was animated and replete with aflfec- 
 tion ; after which, a hymn was performed by the choir of 
 singers, accompanied by the organ. Next, an excellent 
 discourse by Mr. Murray, from 1 Cor. ix. 16 : " For though 
 I preach the gc spel, I have nothing to glorj^ of ; for necessity 
 is laid up^n me ; yea, woe is unto me if I preach not the 
 gospel." A collection for the distressed inhabitants of 
 Philadelphia succv^eded the sermon, and an anthem suited 
 to the sclciimities of the occasion was most admirably 
 chanted. T' o whole was conducted with strict decorum, 
 to the satisf'^,ctir>n of a ver}^ numerous, respectable, and at- 
 tentive audience. 
 
364 LIFE OF REV. JOHN ^lURRAY. 
 
 Perhaps no congregation were ever more unanimous, ana 
 more perfectly satisfied with the pastor of their election, 
 than were the people worshipping in the church in Bennet 
 Street ; and perhaps no minister was ever more unfeignedl}' 
 attached to the people of his charge than was the long- 
 wandering preacher. Both the minister and congregation 
 might truly be said to worship the Most High in the beauty 
 of holiness. The ardinance of the Lord's Supper was ad- 
 ministered agreeabl}^ to their ideas of its genuine import. 
 Parents brought their children into the great congregation, 
 standing in the broad aisle, in the presence of the worship- 
 pers of God. The father received the babe from the hands 
 of the mother, and presented it to the servant of God ; who, 
 deriving his authority for this practice from the example 
 of his Redeemer, who says, '• Suffer little children to come 
 unto me," etc., etc., pronounced aloud the name of the child, 
 and received it as a member of the mystical bod}^ of him 
 who is the second Adam, the Redeemer of men. How often 
 has his paternal heart throbbed with rapture, as he has 
 most devonth' repeated, " We dedicate thee to Him, to 
 whom thou properl}' belongest, to be baptized with his own 
 baptism, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
 the Holy Ghost ; and we pronounce upon thee that blessing 
 which he commanded his ministers, Moses, Aaron, and his 
 sons, to pronounce upon his people, saying, ' The Lord bless 
 thee and keep thee ; the Lord make his face to shine upon 
 thee, and be gracious unto thee ; the Lord lift up his coun- 
 tenance upon thee, and give thee peace.' " * 
 
 * Mr. Murray rejected the practice of infant sprinkling. To him is to le attrib- 
 uted the ceremony of dedication which has obtained so generally in the U j.ivf . 
 salist church. His sentiments on this subject will be found scattered througj "iS 
 *' Letters and Sketches." The following is a slight conversation coczerr.ing 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 3G5 
 
 The preacher, however, never surrendered the persua- 
 sion that he was sent out to preach the gospel, and his 
 visits to his far-distant friends were frequent!}^ repeated ; 
 
 ordinances, which passed between Mr. Murray and Rev. Elhanan Winchester, 
 shortly after their first interview : — 
 
 *' I have had some conversation with Mr. W. on the subject of ordinances. 
 
 '* W. You do not use water baptism, I think, Mr. M. 
 
 " M. No, sir ; we listen to the Baptist, and we hear him say, ' I indeed baptize 
 you with water unto repentance, but he who cometh after me is mightier than 1 ; 
 he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with tire.' We know that Johi: 
 the Baptist pointed in this passage to the Redeemer, and we prefer his baptism ta 
 that of his harbinger ; nor can we advocate a plurality of baptisms, when wt 
 hear the apostle say, there is hut one Lord, and one baptism. 
 
 *' W. And the Lord's Supper, — you lay that aside also. 
 
 " M. No, sir; we esteem this as a divine privilege; which, while life is 'ft, 
 we shall religiously maintain, and that too in the way our Lord directed his ais- 
 Ciples to use it. ' As oft as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, do it in remem- 
 brance of me,' In the symbolic elements we behold the gathering together tbo 
 many in one. 
 
 " W. Ay, ay, I have seen all that can be said on that subject in a piece r/ritten 
 by a lady. Had you no hand in that performance ? 
 
 " M. No, sir, not a single letter, not a point, either directly or indirectly, ever 
 was furnished by me. 
 
 " W. I never doubted its being the performance of a lad/: 
 
 " M. Why, sir ? 
 
 " TT. Why, sir, I know no man who could have written so wJl I =Ter -.8 
 better pleased with the manner of a piece in my life ; there is that s^ jiclitly , easy, 
 flowery flow of expression that is more characteristic of a female p-^*' than th?t 
 of a male. 
 
 " 3/, Is it not amazing that it has not been attacked ? 
 
 " W. Not at all, sir; what a despicable wretch must he be, who, acw^yir 'ic 
 may be opposed to the sentiment, would dare to draw his ic:p against th». author 
 of that preface, in which she declares her resolution of retir.up'into her closet in 
 the event of an attack, and answering her opponent with silence. I ncvjr r ,ad 
 a more charming composition than that preface in my life. I should be excced- 
 iug glad to see the author. 
 
 '* J/. I assure you, sir she has a strong predilection in your favor; 1 : to 
 speak plainly, she is almost as warm an advocate for the devil as yonrsv^L*. 
 
 " ir. I like her the better for it. 
 
 " ^^. Why, really, it is much to her honor, for the enemy has been a malignr.nt 
 enemy to her, and done her much injury; and yet, in the same moment tliat she 
 is as much unlike him as possible, she cannot near of his being cursoa thrcuj;b 
 
366 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUTIRAT. 
 
 jzt these visits were always made by the assenting voice 
 jf the societ}', and he regarded every individual congre- 
 gated under his directing auspices, as in an essential and 
 
 the wa^iteless ages of eternity, but, like Captain Shandy, she hesitates not to 
 commiserate bis destiny. 
 
 " W. Would I could see her ! But I have no business to contemplate anything 
 beneath the skies. I am like a prisoner in momentary expectation of a car- 
 tel, which is to take me to my native country." — Letters, etc., i. HcO, 351. 
 
 In the following, Mr. Murray speaks directly of the origin of the ceremony of 
 dedication .■ — 
 
 " You ask an account of the ceremony I have originated, instead of infant 
 sprinkling. On my first appearance in this country, during my residence in the 
 State of New Jeisey, I was requested, as the phrase is, to christen the children 
 of my hearers. I asked them what was their design in making such a proposal 
 to me ? When they replied, they only wished to do their duty. * How, my 
 friends,' returned I, ' came you to believe infant sprinkling a duty? ' — ' Why, 
 is it not a command of God to sprinkle infants ? ' — 'If you will, from Scripture 
 authority, produce any warrant sufficient to authorize me to baptize children, I 
 will immediately, as in duty bound, submit thereto. Our Saviour sprinkled no 
 infant with water; those who were baptized by his harbinger plunged into the 
 River Jordan, which plunging was figurative of the ablution by which we are 
 cleansed in the b'ood of our Saviour ; but infants are not plunged in a river. 
 
 " ' Paul declares he was not sent to baptize, and he thanks God that he had 
 baptized so few; nor does it appear that among those few there were any infants. 
 It is not a solitary instance to find a whole household without a babe. The 
 eunuch conceived it necessary there should be much water for the performance 
 of the rite of baptism; all this seems to preclude the idea of sprinkling and of 
 infant baptism ; and it is said that whole centuries passed by, after the commence- 
 ment of the Christian era, before the sprinkling of a single infant. I am, how- 
 ever, commencing a long journey; many months will elapse before my return. 
 I pray you to search the Scriptures during my absence ; and if, when we meet 
 again, you can point out the chapter and verse wherein my God has commanded 
 his ministers to sprinkle infants, I will immediately prepare myself to yield an 
 aiihesitating obedience.' I pursued my journey, — I returned to New Jersey, my 
 then home, —but no authority could be produced from the sacred waitings for 
 infant sprinkling. Still, however, religious parents were uneasy, and piously 
 anxious to give testimony, public testimony, of their reliance upon and confidence 
 in the God of their salvation. Many, perhaps, were influenced by the fashion 
 of this world; but some, I trust, by considerations of a higher origin. 
 
 " I united with my friends in acknowledging that when God had blctsed them 
 hy puttin/T into their hands and under tlieir care one of the members of his body 
 
LIFE OF ilEV. JOHN Mui^ J J-. 367 
 
 solemn sense his children. A gentleman atLending ir. cl^ 
 church in Bennet Street, addressing Mr. Murray by ieo er, 
 thus observes : " T was very much pleased at yci..r meet- 
 ing ; the orderly, respectable, and serins :lemef.nor of youj 
 sociei} , their silent and fixed attention upon 3'ou, pcue- 
 
 ■wlnch he had purchased with his precious Mood, it seemed proper an1 L•'aso^3 
 hlc- that t'ley sliould present the infant to the God who gave it, askiag 'ii.3 aid in 
 lac important duty which had devolved upon them, and religiously confessing, 
 by tlils aci, their obligation to and dependence on the Father of all worlds. Je"; 
 wo CDu^d not c?ll an act of this kind baptism ; we believe there is but one bapti9^n . 
 and tbiS; because the Spirit of God asserts, by the Apostle Paul, that there is I'U^ 
 one baptism, and the idea of this single baptism is corroborated by the class iu 
 ■which we find it placed. ' One Lord, one faith, one haptiam, one God and Father 
 of all, icho is above all, and through all, and in you all.- Ephesians iv., 5, 6. 
 After much deliberation I proposed, and many of my hearers have adopted, the fol- 
 lowing mode : The parent or parents (I am always best pleased when beth parents 
 unite) bring their children into the great congregation, and stand in the broad 
 aisle, in the presence of the worshippers of God. The father, receiving the babe 
 from the arras of the mother, presents it to the servant of God, Avho statedly 
 ministers at his altar. The ambassador of Christ receives it in his arms, deriv- 
 ing his authority for this practice from the example of the Redeemer, who says, 
 * Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' 
 The minister, therefore, taking the infant from its father, wo > gives him, as he 
 presents it, the name of the child, proclaims aloud : ' John .r Ma.ry, we receive 
 thee as a member of the mystical body of him who is the secoua Adam, the Re- 
 deemer of men. the Lord from heaven. "We dedicate thee to him, to wh-^m thon 
 properly belongest, to be baptized with his own baptism, in the name of the 
 Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; and we pronounce upon thee that 
 blessing which he commanded his ministers, Closes, Aaron, and his sons, to 
 pronounce upon his people, saying : — 
 
 " ' The Lord bless thee and keep thee ; • 
 
 " ' The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee ; 
 
 *' ' The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.' 
 
 "For this procedure we have the command, the express command of God, 
 Our reason and our religion concur to approve the solemnity, and our hearts are 
 at peace. 
 
 " The Lord, we repeat, hath commanded us to bless the people. God himself 
 pronounced this blessing upon all the people, in the first Adam, when he placed 
 him in the garden of Eden, and blessing and cursing came not from the same 
 mouth upon the same characters. God, our God, is the ever-blessing God; nor 
 are blessings given only to the deserving. The blessings of providence and of 
 grace are freely bestowed upon the evil and the unthankful; and when the evU 
 
368 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 trated me with sentiments of attachment and satis- 
 faction, and I forbore not to invoke the providence of 
 God, that no froward or adverse spirit should interrupt 
 the harmony which now so evident!}^ subsists between 
 3'ou." 
 
 Yes, it is indeed true that Mr. Murray considered the 
 interests of the people of his charge as his own. Most 
 fondly did lie cherish, and perseveringly did he seek by 
 every possible means to advance their reputation. He 
 sympathized with the afflicted, and largely partook their 
 sorrows ; w' hile, so often as the course of events brought joy 
 to their bosoms, his eye beamed gladness, and his tongue 
 e^culted to dwell upon facts which illumined the hours of 
 his protracted pilgrimage. His voice at the bed of death 
 was the herald of consolation. Are there not uncounted 
 numb..r3, still passing on in this vale of tears, who, while 
 "ttending upon their expiring relatives, have witnessed the 
 divine euectj emanatinor from the luminous understanding 
 of tne ^^reacfiii, and lighting up a blissful smile of antici- 
 pated felicity, amid the agonies of dissolving nature? To 
 the iged Le delighted to administer consolation ; his pres- 
 ence jjjave a face of cheerfulness to those social hours, 
 which the numerous classes with whom he mingled were 
 went to appropriate to enjoyment. Children lisped with in- 
 fT.T>tile transport the name of the philanthropic preacher, 
 
 an ' the unthankful obtain the knowledge of this truth, they earnestly sigh to be 
 g od, to be grateful. 
 
 " xiut the ever-blessed God not only blessed the people in their first general 
 he'vd, tut t/i that seed, which is Christ. In thy seed, said the Lord Jehovah, 
 sh.^.ll the families, all the families of the earth be blessed. This was a royal 
 grant. Ve <ire not in general sufficiently attentive to this particular. It is 
 c mmon to talk of being blessed by, and some say through, Christ, but few, very 
 ftw, ever think of being blessed in QMristy — Sketches, etc., ii. 366-3G8. 
 
 See also " Letters and Sketches,"' iii. 345. T. W. 
 
LIFE OF RBV. JOHN MURRAY, 369 
 
 f-nd they were even eloquent in expressions of unfeigned 
 attachment. The pleasures of young people, if under the 
 dominion of innocence, were uniformly sanctioned by their 
 preacher ; and his appearance in well-regulated circles of 
 hilarit}', so far from clouding, was alwa3^s considered as the 
 harbinger of high-wrought entertainment. If we except a 
 single instance, we do not know that, through a series of 
 revolving 3^ears,the harmon\' subsisting between the minis- 
 ter and his congregation suffered either interruption or 
 diminution. This instance originated in political pertinac- 
 ity. Party spirit occasionally ran very high ; and federal 
 and democratic leaders were among the adherents of Mr. 
 Murray. A Jul}^ oration was to be delivered ; much invidious 
 disquisition was afloat ; but it is fruitless to delineate ; suf- 
 fice it to say, that this oration and its consequences were 
 pregnant with anguish to an oft-stricken heart ; but, blessed 
 be God ! the threatening aspect of affairs which seemed to 
 gather darkness was soon dispersed, and the sun of right-- 
 eousness seemed to break forth with renewed splendor. 
 Nor is it wonderful that transient animosities existed ; it is 
 rather astonishing they were not more frequent. It was 
 truly affecting, it was beautiful, and eminently consolatory, 
 to behold persons of the warmest feelings and strongest 
 prejudices, depositing every dissenting, ever}^ foreign sen- 
 timent at the foot of the cross, meeting, and mingling 
 souls, and emphaticall}', although tacitly, saying to every 
 minor consideration, " Tarry ye here, while we go up to 
 worship." 
 
 Too soon have the years of felicity fled away. They rise 
 
 to view like the vision of some blissful era, which we have 
 
 imagined^ not realized. Suddenl}^ we were aroused from 
 
 our dream of security ; the torpid hand of palsy blighted 
 
 24 
 
370 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 our dearest hopes: the preacher, the head, the husband, 
 the father, was in a moment precipitated from a state of 
 high health, and prostrated beneath the tremendous stroke 
 of the fell destroyer. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 RECORD CONTINUED FROM OCTOBER, 1809, TO SEPTEMBER, 
 1815, INCLUDING THE CLOSING SCENE. 
 
 Portentously the dense, dark cloud ar6se; 
 
 Long was the night, surcharged with clustering woes; 
 
 But, blest Religion, robed in spotless white, 
 
 "With torch of faith, pointing to realms of light, 
 
 Marched splendid on; wide o'er the brightening way, 
 
 Leading the saint to never-ending day. 
 
 It was upon the nineteenth day of October, 1809, 
 that the fatal blow was given to a life so valuable, so 
 greatly endeared, so trul}^ precious ; but, although the 
 corporeal powers of the long active preacher became 
 so far useless as to render him as helpless as a ..eW' 
 born babe ; although he was indeed a complete cripple, 
 yet the saint still lingered ;* was still detrined liy 
 
 * Mr, Murray was present at the inatallati n of Rev. Edward Turner, and the 
 dedication of the new church at Salem, June 22, 1809, within three months of his 
 paralysis. He was verging upon seventy years of age, and was already " \vea« 
 and feeble." He " made the dedicatory prayer, which melted into unison 
 every heart." Rev. George Richards, of Portsmouth, who was just about remov- 
 ing to Philadelphia, preached the sermon of dedication. He was a man of great 
 oratorical gifts. Mr. Murray " watched him closely, with a tearful eye." As Mr. 
 Richards " drew towards the end of the discourse, which was very long, he 
 turned round toward Father Murray, seized his hand, and cried out in the lan- 
 guage of Elisha to the ascending Elijah, ' My father, my father, the chariot of 
 Israel and the horsemen thereof! ' The salutation was so sud "en, and Father 
 Murray's strength had been so much impaired by age and sickness, that he shook 
 •with emotion while the speaker continued his very rapturous address.' Mr. 
 Murray gave the charge to the pastor-elect. After his prostration by paraiysi?_ 
 
 371 
 
372 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the all-wise decree of the Most High, a prisoner in his clay- 
 built tenement, nor did his complete beatification take 
 place until the Sabbath morning of September 3, 1815, 
 lacking only a few da^'s of six complete j'ears. Yet was 
 his patience, so far as we have known, unexampled. No 
 murmur against the inflictions of Heaven escaped his lips ; 
 praises of his paternal Creator were still found upon his 
 tongue, and the goodness of his God continued his endur- 
 ing theme. Unwavering in his testimou}^, he repeatedly 
 and most devoutly said, " No man on earth is under so 
 many obligations to Almighty God as myself ; j'es, I will 
 adore the great Source of being so long as I shall exist, 
 and every facult}^ of my soul shall bless my redeeming Cre- 
 ator." Yet, it is true that, w^hen the once cheerful Sabbath 
 bells vibrated upon his ear, he would frequentl}' lift towards 
 heaven a humid e3'e, and mournfully articulate, " Alas ! 
 alas ! it is not with me as heretofore, when I could hear the 
 tribes devoutl}^ sa}', ' Up, Israel, to the temple haste, and 
 keep this festal day.' " Soon, however, his mind was hushed 
 to peace by calm and firm confidence in his God, and he 
 would add, " Well, well, when / awaJce in thy likeness^ I 
 shall be satisfied. AVe are asleep in the present state ; we 
 are asleep in the likeness of the earthh' man ; all our un- 
 easy sensations are unpleasant dreams. Pleasures, derived 
 from mere terrestrial enjo^^ments, detached from intellect, 
 are also dreams, and, like the baseless fabric oj a vision^ 
 shall not leave a lorech behind. But if my life have been a 
 continued sleep, and the greater part of my pains and pleas- 
 
 t'jough " almost as helpless as a babe, he sometimes appeared at church ; but he 
 - ;.^t have been actually borne In by his friends. He was present at the installa- 
 ; .1 cf Mr. Dean," as his colleague, " in August, 1813." — Whittemore's Life of 
 i3tUlou. — G. L. D. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, S?"^ 
 
 ures dreams ; 3'et, ivliile this deep sleep has been upon me^ 
 the Almighty hath instructed me; yes, blessed be his name, 
 the roof of his mouth is as the best wine, which goeth down 
 sweetly, causing the lips of those ivho are asleep to speak. 
 Oh! for more of this best wine, that my lips may show forth 
 his praise, that I may drink and forget all sorroiv." 
 
 Thus was the tenor of his mind generally acquiescent 
 and his impatience to be gone was frequently subdued b}- 
 an operative conviction of the sovereign wisdom, as well 
 as paternal love, of Deity. His Bible was his constant 
 companion. Seated bj^ his affectionate assistant in his 
 easy-chair, and the book of God opened before him, the 
 man of patience, during six succeeding years, passed the 
 long summer mornings from the sun's early beams, ri ex- 
 amining and re-examining the will of his .ujgust 
 Father. He had, through a long life, been conversant 
 with a variety of English authors. Poets, dramatic writers , 
 essayists, and historians were familiar to him ; lio took 
 great delight in perusing them. But, travelling through 
 those multiplied pages, might be termed his excursion^, 
 while the sacred volume was liis intellkctual home. 
 Man}^ hours in everj^ day were devoted to the attenlivij 
 perusal of the Scriptuies, and 3^et his sentiments were un- 
 varied ; not a single feature of the system he haa so long 
 advocated was changed. 
 
 Mr. Murray was fond of calling .'limself the Ix)r(i's 
 prisoner ; and he would a.ld, I l,ii., ly consequence, a 
 prisoner of hope. Turing lis ccnfinerrenu many respect- 
 able gentlemen, clergymen in Boston, visited fxin. ''>ne 
 or two repeated their visits and they apf. arently rcgarlo;'; 
 the now white-haired servant of God with kindness an^. 
 respect. One clercynan questioned Lin respecting ii-«* 
 
374 r.IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 t:;en pres'^nt views, wishing to ascertain if bis faith were 
 still in f*.' ercise, if he were willing to depart. " Oh, yes, 
 yes, 3"es,'' exclaimed the long-illumined Christian, " the 
 'oriLUS uanifestations of divine love still brighten upon 
 juc. ^v-gnt ;jrecious to mj^ soul are the promises, the oath 
 OF JEH3Vii.n ; and, sir, so far from shrinking from m}^ ap- 
 p^ - icni'i.^ hange, my onl}^ struggle is for patience to 
 ab^e, until the time appointed for my emancipation. I 
 '\^ould cultivate a humble, child-like resignation ; but hope 
 deferred doth indeed too often make the heart sick." Anoth- 
 3r gentleman congratulated him on his apparent convales- 
 cence. " Oh ! sir," he returned, " the voice of gladness suits 
 not my present feelings ; it is as if, when I believed I 
 was voyaging to my native shores, where health, happiness, 
 and peace awaited me, borne onward by gales the most 
 propitious, and supposing m3'self almost in the moment 
 of obtaining the long-desired haven, when suddenly driven 
 back by some adverse circumstance, instead of being 
 soothed b}^ condolence, I am pierced to the soul by the 
 discordant sounds of felicitation." Yet, we repeat, the 
 revered teacher was in general astonishingly patient, re- 
 signed, and even cheerful. He was frequently heard to 
 say that he had experienced, in the course of his con- 
 finement, more of the abundant goodness of his God, than 
 through the whole of his preceding life ; and those most 
 conversant with him could not forbear observing that the 
 protracted period which would in prospect have risen to 
 the eye with a most melanchol}^ if not terrific aspect, taken 
 as a whole, exhibited the saint more equal, calm, and dig- 
 nified, than any other six 3'ears of his existence. A re- 
 spectable gentleman, not of his persuasion, but candid and 
 benign, remarked, that his character was elevated to no 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 375 
 
 common height ; that his uncomplaining endurance of suf- 
 fering, and the unwavering steadfastness of his faith, had 
 stamped his testimony with the seal of integrity, and gave 
 that confirmation to his confidence in his own views of 
 sacred writ, which could not fail of rejoicing the hearts of 
 his adherents. 
 
 The chamber of adversity was occasionally illumined by 
 the presence of friends; and one sympathizing, kind- 
 hearted, afi'ectionate brother was so uniform in his appear- 
 ance with the close of every week, that we might almost 
 have designated the day and the hour of the evening by 
 his approaches. Nor was the demise of his teacher the 
 period of his kindness ; his countenance, his aid, his com- 
 miseration, his society, are still loaned to the solitary, 
 the bereaved family. Dear, faithful man ! May the rich 
 blessings of Almighty God rest upon thee and thine, until 
 thou hast finished th}^ mortal career ; and mayest thou, in 
 the regions of blessedness, renew, with thy beloved teacher, 
 that friendship which, while tenanted in clay, thou hast so 
 well known to appreciate. 
 
 To three other gentlemen, devoted adherents to the la- 
 mented deceased, warm acknowledgments are, also, most 
 righteously due. Their kind, and still continued, atten- 
 tions are gratifjdng proof of their attachment to him, who 
 was so 'tear to them ; and gratitude hath, with mournful 
 ait.crit}', reared her altars in the bosoms of the widow and 
 ',l.v fatherless. 
 
 Some strange occurrences were noted, which filled 'the 
 ••<;art of the venerable man of God with sorrow, un- 
 uLterable sorrow. Everything seemed to point home- 
 ^i-rd to the sky, and upon Lord's day morning, 
 Augast 27, 1815, at four o'clock, an especial sum- 
 
376 LIFE CF REV. JOHN MURhA . 
 
 mons was despatched by the Most High, to recall nis Ion j- 
 tried servant ; but, alas ! we did not recognize the ii.v.s- 
 senger. We rather believed that the circumstances whicL 
 marked the acknowledged chai-ge would look with a 
 friendly aspect upon the health of the beloved man during 
 the succeeding autumn and winter ; bat the honored suf- 
 ferer himself, apparently better informed, anticipatingly 
 observed, " Who knows? perhaps the liberating hour is 
 at hand." And his feelings were always elated or de- 
 pressed in exact proportion as the moment of his departur*. 
 seemed to advance or recede. 
 
 The progress of the new disease was astonishingly rapid. 
 A physician was summoned, who permitted the indulgence 
 of hope. On Tuesday, twenty-ninth, his complaints evidently 
 abated, insomuch, that while the features of his strongly 
 marked face expressed the deepest mortification, he 
 tremulously exclaimed, " Am I, then, once more thrown 
 back, the melancholy subject of alternate hope and fear?" 
 On Wednesday every symptom increased ; he obtained little 
 rest, and hope manifestly triumphed in his bosom. Another 
 physician was called in, whose doubtful answers to pro- 
 posed questions created much alarm. He seemed to consider 
 nature as surrendering her offices. In the course of Thurs- 
 da}^ thirty-first, he repeatedly and earnestly said, '' I 
 cannot be sufficiently thankful to God my Saviour, that I 
 suffer no pain, either of body or mind." To a 3'oung, and 
 tenderly interested friend, he smilingly observed, ''lam 
 hastening through the vallev of the shadow of death. I 
 am about to quit this distempered state ; 3^et a little mo- 
 ment, and I shall be received into the city of the living 
 God, with the innumerable company of the apostles, and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 377 
 
 spirits of just men made perfect, and I shall continue for- 
 ever in the presence of my divine Master." 
 
 His family solicited his blessing. '' You are blessed," 
 he replied, '' 3'ou are blessed with all the spiritual blessings 
 in Christ Jesus ; and, remember," he added, fixing his dying 
 eyes upon their., " remember, that however tried in this 
 world, there is another and better state of things ; and 
 that, although pierced in this vale of tears by the arrows 
 of unkindness and ingratitude, there is One who loveth 
 you with an everlasting love, and who will never leave 
 you nor forsake 3:OU." 
 
 On Friday morning, September 1st, some expressions 
 gave positive proof of his sanity ; but as the day advanced 
 his derangement was supposed unquestionable, and from 
 this hour until Saturday evening a little after sunset 
 he continued, with few intervals, incoherently repeating 
 the most consolatory passages in the book of God. His 
 right hand was constantly in motion, and when any one 
 approached, whatever might be the question, the answer 
 was ready. " To Him," said the expiring Christian, 
 
 " SHALL THE GATHERING OP THE PEOPLE BE, AND HiS REST 
 SHALL BE GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS. I am blcSSCd 
 
 with all spiritual blessings in Christ Jesus. Nor I alone, 
 Christ Jesus hath tasted death for every man," etc., 
 etc. These God-honoring, man-restoring truths were 
 audibly articulated, while voice and strength continued ; 
 and when speaking only in a whisper to the listening ear 
 applied to his moving lips, it was ascertained that the 
 same consolatory assurances still dwelt upon his tongue. 
 Was this delirium? or, if it were, was it not a delirium 
 irradiated by the powerful' influence of redeeming love? 
 Did not the luminous truths upon which the noble, the 
 
378 LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 capacious mind had s: long reposed, beam refulgent over 
 the scattering fragm .i.ts then dissolving, whi!;h had for 
 a term of more than seventy years embodied the immortal 
 tenant? 
 
 Almost immediately after sunset on Saturday evening 
 he ceased to speak. His right hand no longer waved, and 
 he continued in the san t position in which the enduring 
 kindness of his faitliful assistant had placed him, until 
 six o'clock, Lcrd's-day inorning, September 3, 1815 ; 
 when, without a sigh, or a struggle, or a single dis- 
 tortion of CountenancOj he expired. His long-imprisoned 
 spirit escaped to the God wh<; gave it. 
 
 It did nut appear through the whole of Friday and 
 Saturday, that he suL'ered the least pain, except when an 
 attempt was made tc move him. His breath grew shorter 
 and shorter, like the sweet sleep of a tired infant, until it 
 could no more be distinguished. He departed this life in 
 the sevent3'-fifth year of his age. 
 
 Sacred be the scene which immediately succeeded. We 
 do not wish — we attempt not — to lift the veil ; but we ex- 
 ult in the conviction that we shall ere long follow the eman- 
 cipated spirit to the abode of blessedness. 
 
 The interment could be deferred only until Monday 
 evening, September 4th. Funeral honors were promptly 
 and unanimously decreed. The children of the societ}^ dis- 
 tinguished by a badge of mourning, preceded the body ; 
 a long, solemn, well-ordered, and respectable procession 
 followed the train of mourners ; private carriages were 
 added to those appointed by the society ; the body was 
 deposited upon stands in the aisle of the church ; the 
 pulpit and galleries were hung with black ; religious ex- 
 ercises were performed ; when it was entombed with the 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 379 
 
 ashes of those to whom he had been foncllj'' attached. 
 Everything, which immediate!}^ referred to the sacred re- 
 mains of the deceased, was liberally provided by the 
 religious adherents of the promulgator, and the arrears 
 which icould have been due to the family, had the vote of 
 March, 1815, been similar to that of March, 1814, wen 
 paid to a single farthing.* 
 
 * The funeral discourse was pronounced by Rev. Thomas Jones, of Gloucester, 
 and prayers were offered by Rev. Hosea Ballou, of Salem, and Rev. Edward 
 Turner, of Charlestown. Subsequently a eulogy was pronounced by Mr. Murray's- 
 colleague, Bev. Paul Dean. — G. L. D. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 And now the feverish dream of life is o'er. 
 
 Had we talents, we would exhibit a portrait of the de- 
 ceased ; but, besides that we feel ourselves inadequate to 
 a task so arduous, we are not perfectly convinced of its 
 propriety. Friendship might be too warm, and admiration 
 too lavish. His colleague has been his eulogist, and no 
 friend of the deceased will pronounce the panegyric an ex- 
 aggeration. Perhaps it does not contain a more just, or a 
 more happy paragraph than the following: "Without a 
 second to aid him, you saw him pass along these shores 
 from Maryland to New Hampshire, like the lonely pelican 
 of the wilderness, publishing, as with the voice of an angel, 
 the tidings of everlasting life to the whole world, in the 
 name, and through the mission of our Lord Jesus Christ.** 
 
 It has been said that persuasion dwelt upon the lips of 
 our philanthropist. The pages of recollection furnish many 
 instances of his powerful and soul-subduing eloquence. We 
 are impelled to select, from the fading record, two facts 
 which are well authenticated : — 
 
 A London mob had assembled in great force, with the 
 most destructive and murderous designs. Time-honored 
 edifices were to be demolished, and the weapons of death 
 to be pointed at the most valuable lives. This scene of 
 
 380 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 3^1 
 
 riot was exhibited during the troubles relative to Mr. 
 Wilkes ; all was tumult and tremendous uproar ; an attea r.*; 
 at r'^asoning was stifled by outrageous clamor ; tbe efforts 
 of peace officers were fruitless, and the military was on the 
 point of being called into action, when Mr. Murray, re- 
 turning from some religious meeting to his peaceful home, 
 found himself in the midst of the infuriated rioters, and in- 
 stantly mounting a stand, which opportunel}^ presented, n^ 
 harangued the lawless multitude ; and, by soothing their 
 prejudices, addressing their passions, and pointing out the 
 only legitimate steps for the purpose of obtaining redress, 
 he first obtained silence, next softened and ameliorated 
 their passions, and finally dispersed, without mischief, a 
 most enraged populace. A nobleman, seizing him by the 
 hand, impressively said, " Young man, I thank you. I am 
 ignorant of your name ; but I bear testimony to your won- 
 derful abilities. By your exertions, much blood and treas- 
 ure have this night been saved." 
 
 The second instance which we present is nearer home^ 
 A motion was made in the legislature of a sister State, 
 then province, to raise a sum of money for the relief of the 
 Bostonians, sufiering from the severe decrees of a British 
 ministry. Mr. Murray attended the debates ; the motion 
 was seconded, and supported with spirit and judgment, and 
 it was opposed with some violence and little reason. It 
 was put to vote, and lost by a majority of twelvo persons ; 
 Mr. Murray's particular adherents voting against it. It 
 happened he was on that day to dine at the house of a Dr. 
 
 B , one of the triumphant majority, with several 
 
 gentlemen on the same side of the question, when his pow- 
 erful animadversions and reasoning upon the subject 
 wrought so great a revolution as to produce a reconsidera- 
 
582 LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 tion of the vote, and the motion for succoring the Bosto- 
 nians passed by a majority of nine persons. 
 
 Mr. Murray has been accused of licentious opinions and 
 practices. His letters to his friends would fill many vol- 
 umes ; addressed to the private ear of those he best loved, 
 they ought to decide upon his opinions ; and, for his life, 
 perhaps no man of abilities so stinted was ever a greater 
 blessing to mankind. We indulge ourselves with giving 
 one letter, written to the son of a most intimate friend : — 
 
 ''You are placed at school for two purposes : the im- 
 provement of 3' our understanding, and the formation of 
 virtuous principles. It cannot be doubted that the im- 
 provement of the heart is esteemed by those to whom you 
 are most dear, beyond the most cultivated intellect. It is 
 your business to unite these estimable objects ; 3^our heart 
 and understanding should be emulous in pursuit of excel- 
 lence. Ethics, improved and elevated by the Christian 
 religion, become the guides to real wisdom and solid hap- 
 piness. These they could never have attained in the schools 
 of heathen philosoph}^ It is not expected that j^ou should 
 thus early be engaged in the profound disquisitions of 
 theology. The plain doctrines of the religion, which it is 
 hoped 3^ou will profess, have been explained to j^ou ; but 
 the principal business is. to open j'^our heart for the recep- 
 tion of those sentiments and principles, which will conduce 
 to the direction of j^our actions in the employments and 
 engagements of your subsequent life. Permit me, how- 
 ever, to remind you of the necessity of reading the Scrip- 
 tures, that is, of drinking the sacred waters at the fountain 
 head. But, to read the Scriptures with advantage, judg- 
 ment is necessary ; and as your judgment is not yet ma- 
 tured, you must submit to the direction of your instructors. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 383 
 
 The plainest and most perspicuous passages will, for the 
 present, best deserve and reward your attention. The his- 
 torical parts of the Old Testament will entertain you, if you 
 consider them only in a classical point of view, as valuable 
 passages of ancient history ; but I would call your attention 
 more immediately to the books which are most replete with 
 moral instruction, such as the Proverbs of Solomon, the 
 Wisdom of the Son of Sirach, and the admirable book enti- 
 tled Ecclesiasticus. I trust the time will come, when the 
 prophecies will most pleasingly instruct 3'ou ; at present you 
 will peruse them for the poetical beauties which they con- 
 fessedly display. Isaiah abounds with fine passages of this 
 description, and Jeremiah is b}^ no means deficient in this 
 line. You have no doubt read Pope's " Messiah," and could 
 not but have observed that its most pleasing imager}' is 
 selected from Isaiah. If you read the Old Testament with a 
 taste for its beauties, 3'ou will accomplish two important 
 purposes : 3'ou wiU acquire a knowledge of the Holy Bible, 
 which is your dut}', and you will improve 3'our taste and 
 judgment. The New Testament requires the attention of 
 ever}^ one, who professes himself a Christian. You must read 
 it with that humility which becomes a finite being, but more 
 particularly' a 3'oung person. You will do well to pa}- especial 
 attention to the Sermon on the Mount, and to that admira- 
 ble epitome of all moral philosophy, the rule of doing to 
 
 OTHERS AS 'WE WOULD THEY SHOULD DO UNTO US. If \0\X pay 
 
 due obedience to this precept 3'ou will never hesitate in deter- 
 mining what part you are, upon ever3- occasion, to act. It 
 is proper you should familiarize your mind to the language 
 of Scripture ; although 3'ou ma3' not full3' comprehend the 
 sacred writings, 3^ou will thus treasure up in your memor3' 
 many useful passages, which ma3' become in future highl3^ 
 
384 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 consolatory. An early acquaintance with the letter of the 
 Old and New Testaments has been found a substantial prop 
 through lengthening years ; but all this, my dear young 
 friend, will avail but little, unless you add thereto prayer 
 and praise. Make it therefore a rule, never to be violated, 
 to pray night and morning. The Redeemer, while clothed 
 in humanit}^ earnestl}^ and fervently addressed the Deity ; 
 forget not, therefore, to offer your private addresses to the 
 Father of your spirit, at retiring to rest, and with the early 
 dawn. Your age is the age of inadvertence ; you enjoy 
 health, and you are a stranger to the cares of the world. 
 Cheerfulness does indeed become 3'ou, but let me pray you 
 to consider the value of time, and the importance of ap- 
 propriating it to wisdom. Consider your parents ; the 
 anxiety they experience upon 3'our account ; most ardently 
 do they desire 3'our improvement. Laudably ambitious, 
 they are solicitous that you should be eminent, in what- 
 ever profession or employment you may be destined to 
 engage. To see you contemptible would fill them with 
 the extreme of anguish ; and, trust me, nothing will rescue 
 you from contempt, but individual merit, a good disposi- 
 tion, adorned by literature, and embellished by the lighter 
 accomplishments, and especially elevated by Christianity. 
 Your parents have labored indefatigably to promote you , 
 but it remains with 3'ourself to give success to their endeav- 
 ors. The mind is not like a vessel, into which we ma;, 
 pour an}' good qualit}-, whatever the director may choose ; 
 it is rather like a plant, which, by the operation of its own 
 internal powers^ imbibes the nutriment afforded by the earth. 
 I repeat, it is certain that instructors can slj... y,^u only 
 in conjunction with 3'ourown efforts. Let me, riien, ert'-e- < 
 you to exert yourself, if you have any regar'i for the. 
 
LIFE OF REV, . .-^1^^ MVA±iAI. 385 
 
 parents, whose hr-ppiness so much depends upon j'our con- 
 duct ; if 3'ou have ary regard for your own honor, felicity, 
 iMd prosperity ; if yoi: hope to be useful, and respected in 
 cociety. 
 "Always consider lie as your :^r^end and servant, 
 
 "John Murray/* 
 
 If the testimony of res;,e'^table contemporaries ; of men 
 who disdained flatter}', a:id whose judgment was unques- 
 tionable ; who delightet'. to address our departed friend in 
 the strains of panegyric, — if th .so vouchers were permitted 
 to decide in his favor, we cor id produce a cloud of wit- 
 nesses. "We content ourse'v^n with a few extracts from 
 the many letters whicn f l^^-ht be produced. General Greene 
 thup writes : " You may remember, I promised 3'ou a letter 
 at the close of ever}' campaign. Had I the tongue of a 
 Murray to proclaim, or the pen of a Robertson to record, 
 the occurrences of this campaign should be delineated to 
 the honor of America. The Monmouth battle, and the 
 action upon Rhode Island, were no small triumphs to us, 
 who had so often been necessitated to turn our backs. To 
 behold our fellows, chasing the British off the field of bat- 
 tle, afforded a pleasure which you can better conceive than 
 I can ''escribe. If, my dear Murray, I had before been an 
 n: ."'•niicver, I have had sufficient evidence of the interven- 
 tl;j. of ilivine Providence, to reclaim me from infidelity ; 
 Zj.j neart, I do assure you, overflows with gratitude to Him, 
 whose am is mightier than all the princes of the earth. 
 In the midst of difficulties, and I have encountered many, 
 ray heart x^everLs to you. Were you addressing me from the 
 puljjit, you cc'ild convince me that considering the we' 'd 
 25 
 
386 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 to which I am hastening, I have not the least cause of com- 
 plaint. I sigh for an opportunity of listening to the music 
 of 3'our voice. 
 
 " Are 3^ou and the priests upon any better terms? Or 
 are they as mad with you as ever? Well, go on, and pros- 
 per, and may God bless you to the end of the chapter." 
 Again, General Greene writes : "It is, my dear sir, a long 
 time since you and I have had a friendly meeting. God 
 only knows when we shall be thus blest. It is impossible 
 for me to give you an adequate idea of the distress of the 
 once happy people of New Jersey. I know your fancy is 
 lively, and your genius fertile. Give your faculties full 
 scope, in drawing a picture, and it will still fall far short 
 of the original. How greatly would you be pained were 
 you present ! you who sympathize with everything in dis- 
 tress, and feel and share the miseries of all around you. 
 Oh, my dear, my dear friend, ma}- God preserve yon from 
 such complicated distress ! Soon after you left me upon 
 Long Island, I was seized with a violent fit of sickness ; 
 my restoration was unexpected, but my health is now con- 
 firmed. Oh, what would I give for a few hours unin- 
 terrupted conversation with our dear Murray ! I beseech 
 you to visit Mrs. Greene in Coventry." One more extract 
 from the letters of General Greene shall suffice. " Once 
 more, on the close of the campaign, I am to announce to 
 my very dear friend, that I am still an inhabitant of this 
 globe. We have had a hard and bloody campaign, yet we 
 ought rather to dwell upon the mercies we have received, 
 than to repine because they are not greater. But man is 
 a thankless creature ; j^et you, dear Murray, know that the 
 mercies of God are happily proportioned to our weakness. 
 Retired to winter-quarters, the social passions once more 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 387 
 
 kindled into life, love and friendship triumph over the 
 heart, and the sweet pleasures of domestic happiness call 
 to remembrance my once happy circle of friends, in which 
 you, my dear sir, appear in the first rank. My friendship 
 for you is indeed of the warmest description. My attach- 
 ment was not hastily formed, and it will not easily be re- 
 linquished. I early admired j^our talents ; 3^our morals 
 have earned my esteem ; and neither distance nor circum- 
 stances will diminish m}' affection." 
 
 The subjoined extracts are from letters written by gen- 
 tlemen of high respectability, in the mercantile, literary, 
 and Christian world. The first extract is from a letter, so- 
 liciting a visit from the preacher. 
 
 " The grand, the glorious expedition in which you are 
 engaged, to disseminate truth and knowledge ; the assur- 
 ances we can give yoxn how little is known here, and how 
 eagerly it is wished that the waj^s of God to man should 
 be made manifest, will, I trust, induce you to make an ex- 
 ertion in our behalf. My ardent prayer is for your life and 
 health. The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are 
 few ; 3'et I trust in God that the beams of light will irra- 
 diate this benighted world, and that he will accelerate that 
 eternal da}', when the Son shall give up the kingdom to the 
 Father, and God shall be all in all." 
 
 " You solicit me to write. My writing can afibrd you no 
 novelty, for what intellectual ground is there that you have 
 not trod, or that I can mark out, which you have not be- 
 fore observed? I am wearied with reiterated reflection, and 
 I pant for that sky where I may range without confine- 
 ment. The simple truths of the gospel please me much. 
 I rest in confidence that Christ died for me, rose again for 
 my justification, and will make me completely blessed ; 
 
;^88 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ".hat I am essentiall}' united to, and a part of, that nature 
 ^hich pexvades all space, and a spark of that fire that shall 
 escape to heaven, its native seat. I recollect your preach- 
 ing with pleasure, and I bless God for the light he has been 
 pleased to convey to m}^ mind, through 3'our instrumental- 
 ity. May your labors be blest with abundant success ; but 
 I picrdict the genuine gospel laborers will be but few. Poor 
 man ! you must stand singly opposed, without human aid. 
 Be j;^ersuaded that the conflict will be inferior to j^our 
 strength. I really despise the world for their treatment of 
 you ; but 3'ou know who says, ' Be of good cheer, I have 
 overcome the world.' What mildness was there in the 
 majesty of the person of the Redeemer ! He could have 
 been no other than the Deity enrobed in a mantle of flesh. 
 I venerate the liberal, the magnanimous principles of your 
 general and your colonel • and I love them, for their friend- 
 ship for you, and t^e estimation in which they hold you. 
 It is so rare to meet ^'"ith liberal and enlarged minds, 
 that, when I do, I exult at the discover^', and my soul leaps 
 to embrace them. Should you have a vacant moment, j'ou 
 will do well to fill it by writing to us, your children." 
 
 " Never, my dear Mu-ra}^, can I forget a-ou, while memo- 
 ry holdo her seat in this benighted vale. The impressions 
 are tco lasting to be eflfaced, and so deepl}' are they marked 
 together, that, when the ideas of tne great redemption arise 
 in my mind, those of Relly and Murray are inseparable 
 t.ierefrom, as i\\^ raeiiums through which sublime truth 
 beamed upon my soui. I am desirous of anticipating that 
 adult age you so beautifully describe, when knowledge 
 shall be conveyed, not by the obstructed tongue, or tardy 
 l->en, but by iiituiticn. Bat, my dear sir, you must wait till 
 that expected day, before I can teli you how much I esteem^ 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 389 
 
 how much I love 3'ou. Amoiig a number of things you 
 have taught me, I reckon it not the least, that the disposal 
 of human affairs is in the direction of a Being whose op- 
 erations will alwa3's produce the best consequences. I, 
 however, find it difficult to suppress the indignation I feel 
 at the treatment you receive. What shall cure these dis- 
 tempered minds? What shall compose the tumult of their 
 frenzy, or rouse their feverish repose ? Not the skill of an 
 Isaiah, nor the pra3'ers of a Paul ; nothing short of the 
 prescription of the grand Physician, who is the Healer of 
 nations, and the application of that tree, whose leaf is for 
 medicine. My wishes for you in this case are vain ; but I 
 can never appreciate the aspirations of my heart ; not that 
 you may be exempt from the conflict, but that you may 
 conquer ; and \o\i will conquer. Your reward is above, se- 
 cure from the rage of impotent man, and the invasion of 
 the grand adversar^^ of human nature." 
 
 '• To be possessed of j^our confidence and friendship 
 would be flattering to me iu the highest degree. My wishes 
 are to deserve both. You do indeed appear to me a chosen 
 one^ an elect soul. Call these expressions extravagant, if 
 3'ou please, but they are as far short of what I feel, as lan- 
 guage is inadequate to the expressions of the refined taste 
 of the mind." 
 
 " Among the almost innumerable S3^stems, respecting 
 our nature, being, and our end, in which the world have been 
 so perplexed, and have exposed themselves so variousl3', 
 none claims so fair a title to truth as the one vou promul- 
 gate. But the world have not so liberalh' attributed good- 
 ness to Deit3\ Our benignant religion develops the good- 
 ness of God in the enlightening sun, the fructifj-ing rain, 
 the cheering wine, and the nutritious bread. In short, in 
 
390 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 a thousand million examples, with which nature soliberall" 
 abounds. Indeed, we should seldom be unhapp}', did we 
 more constantl}' realize the presence of a redeeming Go(l. 
 I admire the candor of j^our mind, which is ever stepping 
 forth as the advocate of yowv friends, although I may oc- 
 casionall}^ drop from that stand in your friendship which it 
 would be my pride to maintain ; it is a persuasion, which 1 
 can never relinquish, that the wanderings of m}^ heart ma}' 
 be reclaimed in an instant. Your letters are under my pil- 
 low ; I bind them to me as phylacteries, and I attentively 
 watch for a moment of leisure to acknowledge them. Mur- 
 ray, should 3'ou pass out of time before me, I should expe- 
 rience some exquisitely painful sensations. Oh, may you 
 be for a long time to come invulnerable to the shafts sji 
 disease ! Yet why should I wish to turn the dart that ^.-'11 
 give 3'ou passport to a life of bliss and inmiortaiity — you 
 who agonize at the present state of existence.-' No, i:t m'* 
 neither accelerate nor retard, even by a wish, that period 
 of humanity, but invoke our common Father, that we iiiay 
 be strengthened by the way, and with faith ani patience 
 quietly wait the expected release.'' 
 
 " Your letter, mj^ dear Murray, is Hkc a great Tnaga::i:::e, 
 full of instruction and entertainment. Were I to attetrpt 
 to give it due and just consideration, I should wiitc a vol- 
 ume, and probably not succeed at last. Yov say, and I 
 believe it, that we shall be built up again upon '.. superior 
 principle. The world is so involved in the • zick'^.i one, 
 that I am really glad to find any one willi.ig x) allow the 
 goodness of God in any view; it is at 'ef.st ne step 
 toward a just wa}^ of thinking. I pray ycu tc bj vOntert 
 with your present standing ; you are too ii nrm to viol^ ."'a. 
 from home. Where you speak, you a: 2 b^ard bv man'^ 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 391 
 
 it.anfftrs, who enter 3'our capital, whom j^ou know not, 
 bat wLo hear and know you ; so I think your station is 
 clearly pointed out, to which 3"0U do well to adhere. I re- 
 gret exceedingly that I cannot attend j^our expositions of 
 the ceremonial law, in which I understand you are en- 
 '^^.ged. Those laws are a deep and rich mine of instruc- 
 tion. The Scriptures are One, like a great Epic ; their 
 action is One, the Restoration of a lost nature. The sub- 
 ordinate parts evidently point to the great Head and Cap- 
 tain of our salvation. Go on, my dear sir, and may you 
 be the means of bringing man}^ sons to glor3^ Allow me 
 ^; say, 3'ou ought to write more frequentl}^ ; jowy diligence 
 ard activity are well known to me ; but it seems incum- 
 Dtnt upon 3'ou to give the world 3^our explanations of the 
 sacred writings. Yes, I repeat, you would do well to be- 
 stow some portion of 3'our time, to record and elucidate 
 many passagx^s, which, when 3-ou are gone, ma3^ speak for 
 you. 
 
 " The event )f 3^our death, however dreaded, must be met 
 by the greater part of 3'our hearers ; and, although the3^ 
 ma3^ naA'e remaining to them the sacred writings, 3^et 3'ou 
 are awar: that a preach* r is necessaiy. I have compared 
 you to some of the general elements of life, whose good 
 and salubiious existences .ire not known until they are lost. 
 I considfci you employed in .emoving the scales from the 
 darkened eye, fortif3'ing "the timid mind against the 
 5.pproaC'iii;xg dissolution of nature, securing it from the 
 blandialj2ieiitg of delusion, and leading it to arm against 
 the terrors oi' cal.^^Tcity and pain. I m3^self am indebted to 
 you iu LaiidrtC.s of instances for light, and most important 
 information. I need aot repeat my best wishes to 3'Ou ; 
 %\<cv present di-mseVes to me in full, whenever 3^our 
 
392 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 memory occurs to me. I feel that it is hereafter, when you 
 and I are liberated, that I shall derive a part of my happi- 
 ness from the perfection of your friendship. May the least 
 and lightest pains infest you here. This is the utmost a 
 mortal dare wish or request. 
 
 " Yes, my dear sir, I am now sensible of the value of 
 existence ; and the assurance of immortality has become 
 my greatest happiness. The time was, when, to m}^ serious 
 moments, immortality appeared garbed in horror. Many 
 a time have I wished I had never been born ; but — blessed 
 change ! — I can now perceive that light which shined in me, 
 even then, although my darkness comprehended it not; 
 but, blessed be God ! my ej^es are at length opened. Oh ! 
 may God all-gracious watch over you, and preserve you 
 from every evil ! The Almighty in great mercy hath loaned 
 you to a benighted world. May the rich blessing be long 
 continued." 
 
 " Gratitude, dear and honored sir, calls upon me to 
 acknowledge my great obligations for the glorious declara- 
 tion of those important truths, of which, until I had the 
 pleasure of seeing Mr. Murray, I was entirely ignorant. 
 From thai blessed era I date the commencement of my 
 terrestrial felicit3^ It is to 3'ou as an instrument I am 
 indebted for a glimpse of the beautiful harmon}^ of the 
 sacred writings. I can now behold, with devout admira- 
 tion, the great salvation promised us by the word, b}'' the 
 OATH of Jehovah, in that hol}^ book which, altliough pos- 
 sessed by man}^, is neither understood nor valued, except 
 by a few elected individuals. I much wish for 3'our con- 
 tinued instruction; and I know you take pleasure in con- 
 sidering it your duty to impart 3'our knowledge of the 
 Redeemer to the creatures whom he hath purchased with his 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY 393 
 
 blood. "S^'oul(l it were the will of God to give 3'ou a per- 
 manent standing among the circle of my friends, who are 
 so greatly devoted to you I Then, dear sir, would our 
 heaven be commenced u[)on earth, and all would be one 
 continued scene of uninterrupted praises and thanksgiving 
 for the great redemption wrought out by the death and 
 sufferings of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 
 
 " Murray, how greatly you succeed, when engaged upon 
 a theme which I emphatically call your own ! I love to 
 hear vou speak upon anv subject ; but on this you are, I 
 had almost said, divine. Your whole soul seems engaged 
 when dwelling upon the Redeemer and his love to man. 
 Nothing but the A'oice of the God who made you, and who 
 bath so wonderfully endowed you. can exceed the honeyed 
 accents of your Heaven-inspired tongue. Do you wonder 
 that I am daily wishing myself among the number of your 
 hearers, your happy hearers ? But how contrasted is the 
 life of a soldier to that of the peaceful Christian seated at 
 the feet of Jesus ! " 
 
 A respectable gentleman writing, nearly two ycfirs since, 
 from the citv of Philadelphia, and speaking relatively to the 
 recent publication of the venerable, the now departed 
 saint, gratefully says : '• These volumes, your ■ Letters and 
 Sketches,' are all I hoped for, wished, or expected : they 
 are much more. I bless God. not only for the treasures of 
 wisdom committed to his venerable servant, but also that 
 his valuable life has been preserved to accomplish this 
 work, — a production which will live, and be read with 
 ineffable delight when the rubbish of ages shall have been 
 consigned to oblivion." 
 
 Should any curiosity exist respecting Mr. Murray's 
 political sentiments, it may be sufficient to say, that he was 
 
394 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY, 
 
 in heart an American. America was the country of his 
 adoption. He was decidedly and uniformly opposed to the 
 oppression of the British ministry, and he would have 
 embraced any upright measures to have procured redress ; 
 yet, perhaps, he would have been as well pleased had 
 England and America been united upon terms of equalit}' 
 and reciprocal benefit. Nor can it be denied that he was, 
 indubitably, an Anti-Gallican. In our opinion, a total 
 dereliction of countiy stamps miscreant upon the individual 
 who harbors feelings so reprehensible. England was the 
 native country of the preacher. The virtues flourished in 
 his bosom, among which the amor patrice glowed with no 
 common lustre. He frequently amused himself with writ- 
 ing in numbers, which, so soon as written, he generally 
 committed to the flames. The following inartificial lines, 
 written one hour after he received intelligence of the demise 
 of the celebrated and meritorious Earl of Chatham, may be 
 considered as a correct delineation of his political views 
 and wishes : — 
 
 Swift on the car of fancy borne along, 
 And safely landed on my native Isle, 
 I join tlie mourning train assembled there. 
 And stand unnoticed near the hallowed corse. 
 I mark the empty pageantry of state, — 
 A pageantry, alas 1 not empty here. 
 For here are real signs of real woe ; 
 All ranks, all orders, mingle in the throng; 
 Some raise the voice in majesty of woe ; 
 Some silent stand as statues — pale with grief— 
 At sight of these my tears more copious flow. 
 
 Hark I — from yon seat a voice assails my ear, 
 Than music in its softest strains more sweet. 
 'Tis Camden ! favored sage, exalted chief, 
 He calls his mourning country to attend, 
 As thus he pours the elegiac strain. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 395 
 
 " From Iife'<s low vale where all was calm repose, 
 And. taught by Heaven, the mind drank classic lore, 
 To tne tumultuous scenes of busy life, 
 This peerless man, in hour of dread dismay, 
 By pitying Heaven, in mercy to our land, 
 Was summoned forth. He gracious heard and came, 
 Hailed by Britannia's united voice. 
 His royal master looked benignly kind, 
 And bade him welcome to his arms, his heart; 
 For howsoe'er remote their varied spheres. 
 Congenial souls, 'twould seem, informed them both. 
 
 " No longer viewed as servant, but as friend, 
 In all his sovereign's councils he had part. 
 Their hopes and fears, their aims and ends, the same. 
 The nation gave her treasures to his care. 
 Himself the richest treasure she possessed; 
 And anxious eyes from every rank were raised, 
 With serious awe, and steadfast hope, to him; 
 Nor were their hopes, their expectations, vain. 
 New life, new views, fresh vigor nerved his arm; 
 All that was wrong his vigilance set right, 
 And, what was greater far, preserved it so. 
 The foes he met (for who from foes is free ?) 
 Were, to the peerless jewel of his worth, 
 Like toiling lapidary to the costly gem, — 
 They made its brightness more conspicuous shine. 
 
 *' The fawning sycophant oft sought his smile. 
 But piercing eye-beams struck the caitiff blind; 
 The foes to virtue trembled at his nod, 
 While her glad sons flocked hovering round their sire. 
 The merchant watched his eye ; the sons of art, 
 The swain who turns the glebe, but chiefly he 
 On glory bent, who ploughed the watery way, 
 Panting to grasp the treasures of the globe, 
 He carefully this pole-star still observed, 
 And safely voyaged, with this star in view. 
 How wild, alas 1 he'll wander, now 'tis hid. 
 
 " The secrets of all states, blest heaven-taught sage^ 
 To thy pervading eye were all unveiled. 
 And every dark intrigue was known to thee. 
 The Gallic power trembled at thy nod, 
 
396 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 And proud Castalia, cowering, bent to thee. 
 
 In dire suspense the awe-struck nations stood, 
 
 Nor could predict where next would burst the storai* 
 
 " Lo I as he points, our castles float along, 
 And British thunders roll from shore to shore; 
 The sooty tribes of Afric shrink appalled, 
 And China's crafty sons distrust their skill. 
 
 * In this great legislator's hand, our flag. 
 Like that famed wand into a serpent changed, 
 As Hebrew sages sung in days of yore, 
 Made every other flag obsequious bow. 
 And every nation owned or felt his power. 
 But, while remotest lands through fear obeyed, 
 His grateful country served with filial love. 
 And every son of Albion shared his care. 
 
 " Nor did the British garden, blooming round, 
 Alone engage the heavenly laborer's toil; 
 With watchful eye he viewed those tender shootll, 
 Whilom transplanted to Columbia's soil : 
 Those tender lambs be gently led along, 
 And to their plaints still bent a parent's ear. 
 Dear, much loved offspring of this happy Isle I 
 With us, sincere, ye mourn the common loss ; 
 With us lament the father and the friend. 
 
 " But while our bursting hearts deplore his flig^^. 
 Perfidious Bourbon ghastly grins his joy; 
 The Gallic cock now feebly claps his wings, 
 And thinks to hear the lion roar no more. 
 Base, treacherous, cringing, dastard slaves, fcpwarel 
 Although our sun be set to rise no more. 
 The moon and stars shall guide the lion's paw 
 To seize thee tremblii.g in thy close retreat. 
 Already mark ! he shakes his shaggy mane, 
 And growling rises from his murky den ; 
 His eyeballs roll with rage — they shoot forth flames; 
 He grinds his teeth, and finds them solid still; 
 He tries his paws, aud finds his talons strong. 
 Our groans have roused him ; see, he sleeps no more, 
 But still the royal issue f this isle. 
 This highly favored regent of the mair. 
 Secure may stiiud, nor fear the lion's rage. 
 
LIhE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 397 
 
 *' What though the Demons of this land may strive 
 To set the generous lion on her sons, 
 The lion shrinks, — so ancient bards declare, — 
 Nor will destroy the issue nobly born. 
 But those perfidious, who would set him on, 
 "With ghastly looks, and souls appalled by fear, 
 Too late shall feel the horrors of despair." 
 
 But it is the Religionist we are solicitous to char- 
 acterize. And although the sentiments of the preacher 
 may be gathered from his writings, yet, as this volume 
 may come under the eye of some individuals who may not 
 possess the publication to which we have so often alluded, 
 it may be proper in this place to attempt a brief outline of 
 the most prominent features in his creed. 
 
 His full soul believed in one great and indivisible First 
 Cause or origin of all created beings ; before this great 
 First Cause one eternal now, was, is, and will be 
 EVER PRESENT. Everything which has passed, is passing, 
 or shall pass, was ordained in his eternal purpose, and 
 actually passed in review before him, ere ever the worlds 
 were formed, or countless systems commenced their rev- 
 olutions. 
 
 The God of our philanthropist was omnipotent, omni- 
 present, and omniscient ; consequentl}^ he performed all 
 his will ; was, is, and will be, present through all space, 
 through time, and through eternit3\ In the prosecution of 
 his plans mj-riads of angels, in their various orders, were 
 by his omnipotent power commanded into being ; these 
 cherubim and seraphim, angels and archangels surrounded 
 the throne of the Most High. The morning stars sang 
 together and all the hosts of heaven rejoiced. 
 
 But, strange as it may appear to our finite understanding, 
 fell discord, with peace-destroying influence, reared his 
 
398 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 hydra, his tremendous head. Various conjectures hover 
 round this phenomenon. The origin of evil has exercised 
 intellects the most profound and erudite ; but he who can 
 develop the arcana of the Almighty ma}^ claim equality 
 with his God. It should be our care not to attribute to 
 Deity a mode of conduct irreconcilable with rectitude ; 
 and to keep close to that revelation which he hath gra- 
 ciously vouchsafed to bestow upon us. 
 
 The creation of man succeeded the fall of the angelic 
 nature. God said, Lei Us make man, etc., etc. Speak- 
 ing in the plural, with an e3^e to the complexity of that 
 character he had predetermined to assume, and, as we be- 
 fore observed, past^ present, and future, constituted, the 
 token of Deity, one complete whole ; and thus were im- 
 portant occurrences garbed in language suited to the 
 elevation of the Godhead. In process of time this august 
 Creator was to be enrobed in humanity and become the 
 Son born ; was to be exhibited as a holy spirit of consola- 
 tion, taking of the things of Jesus, and exhibiting them to 
 the mind ; thus speaking peace. Mr. Murray was at the 
 same time a Unitarian and a Trinitarian, beholding, 
 constantly beholding, the trinity in the unit}". Let us 
 make man in our image after our own likeness. Tea, 
 veril}", man ma}^ be considered as made in the image, and 
 after the likeness of his Creator. The figure is striking: 
 man is a triune being, bod}", soul, and spirit, j-et no indi- 
 vidual is considered as three but one man, the Trinity and 
 Unity. The Almight}", clad in garments of flesh, became 
 the God-Man, and, speaking of himself as man, he says, 
 My Father is gi'eater than I ; while, reverting to the 
 divinit}", he affirms the Father and He are One. ''Philip, 
 have I been so long with thee, and dost thou say. Show me 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHX MURRAY. 399 
 
 the Father? He who hath seen me hath seen the Father." 
 Was this true, — or was Jesus Christ an impostor? In this 
 view the Scriptures are beautifully consistent. "' I am God 
 THE Saviour ; a just God and a Saviour ; there is none 
 BESIDE ME." This samc evangelical prophet exultingly 
 exclaims, Isaiah ix. 6 : '• Unto us a child is born, unto 
 us a son is given, his name shall be called Wonderful, 
 Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the 
 Prince of Peace." Such were the comprehensive views of 
 Deit}^ which became more and more luminous to the mental 
 eye of the preacher. 
 
 He believed that the creation of human beings made a 
 part of the divine purpose ; in which sacred, uncontrollable, 
 and irreversible purpose, the whole family of man were 
 originally and intimately' united to their august Creator, 
 in a manner mysterious, and as much beyond our limited 
 conception as the Creator is superior to the creature whom 
 he hath formed. 
 
 Adam the first was a figure of Adam the second. Adam 
 the first, the prototype ; Adam the second, the substance 
 of the prototj'pe, the Creator of all worlds, the Lord from 
 heaven. The sacred Scriptures abound with figures of this 
 mj'sterious, this ennobling, this soul-satisfying Union ; 
 among which perhaps none is more expressive than that 
 of the Head and Members constituting one body, of which 
 Jesus Christ was the immaculate Head. Hence the pro- 
 priety and necessity of looking with a single eye to Jesus 
 Christ. We are members of the bod}^ of Christ, who is the 
 head of every man. Should a single member of this mys- 
 tical bod}' be finally lost, the Redeemer must, through 
 eternity, remain imperfect. 
 
 A law was given, to the complete obedience of which ever- 
 
400 LIFE OF REV. JORN MURRAY. 
 
 lasting life was annexed ; but no individual member was 
 ever able to fulfil this law. It was only the head and 
 members collectively in their glorious Head, that was 
 furnished with abilities adequate to a performance of such 
 vast magnitude. Yea, verily, we do indeed break the 
 divine law, in thought, in word, and in deed, and the lip 
 of truth declares, he who offends in one point is guilty 
 of all. 
 
 Wh}', then, was the commandment so exceeding broad? 
 To convince mankind of imbecility ; and that the rectitude 
 they had forfeited could never, in their own individual 
 characters, be regained. But the plan of Deity was with- 
 out an error ; the revolution of time ushered in the great 
 Representative, or, more properly speaking, the Head of 
 the body ; and the forfeit was paid, full atonement was 
 presented, the ransom given, and, in this hour of nature's 
 JUBILEE, the prodigal family restored to their original 
 possessor. 
 
 To make this truth manifest was the great business of 
 our promulgator. He was convinced that only he who 
 believed could be saved ; and that he who believed not 
 was indubitably damned. Hence he has frequently said, 
 he did not believe in universal salvation, because he saw 
 the majority of mankind were not saved. But he was a 
 firm believer in Universal Redemption ; because that 
 sacred volume, which he steadfastly and unwaveringly 
 believed to be the word of God, assured him the price was 
 paid, and the whole human family was redeemed. 
 
 It was the neglecting to distinguish between salvation 
 and redemption, which so frequently drew upon the preacher 
 the charge of prevarication, or, as it was termed by Mr. 
 Croswell, hiding. An article of intelligence may be an 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 401 
 
 established fact ; it may most importantly affect us; but so 
 long as the mind refuses to admit its authenticity, we are 
 undeniably subjected to all those agonizing apprehensions 
 which we should endure if no such fact existed. And it 
 was the salvation from these mental sufferings which Mr. 
 Murraj^ supposed consequent upon a preached gospel ; in 
 other words, an exemption from those tortures, that con- 
 sciousness of condemnation which is most emphatically 
 described when it is said, He who believeth not, is, or 
 shall be damned. 
 
 Yet it is an established truth, that ever}'- believer was 
 once an unbeliever ; every believer, then, was once damned^ 
 and it was only when he became a believer that he vjas 
 saved from those countless agonies, which erst times 
 pierced him through with many sorrows. But he was re- 
 deemed-) the price was paid ere ever he was called into 
 existence. Thus, in this view, redemption and salvation 
 are distinct considerations. 
 
 The preacher unhesitatingly believed, all vfholearned of 
 the Father would come to Jesus, and that all would finally 
 be tan gilt of God. He was a decided believer in the doctrine 
 of angels of light, and angels of darkness, of ministering 
 spirits of light, and of demons stimulating to deeds of 
 darkness. He looked forward to a judgment to come, 
 w^hen countless numbers among the children of men would 
 rise to the resurrection of damnation, and, ignorant of the 
 genuine character of the Redeemer, would call upon the 
 rocks and mountains to fall upon them and hide them from 
 the WRATH OF THE Lamb ; and, believing himself a humble 
 instrument in the hand of God, ordained by him to the 
 ministr}^ of reconciliation, he was never so completel}' 
 happy as when declaring the gospel to be believed ; and 
 26 
 
402 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 calling upon men everywhere to receive the glad tidings 
 of salvation. He was persuaded that those who laid down in 
 sorrow would continue unhappy wanderers, until the open- 
 ing of that book, in which every human being, every member 
 of Christ, was written ; yet he had no idea of any pur- 
 gation for sin, save what was suffered by Christ Jesus, lolio^ 
 by himself, purged our sins. Writing of Mr. Winchester to 
 a friend, Mr. Murra}^ thus expressed himself: " Mr. Win- 
 chester is full with Mr. Law, and of course preaches pur- 
 gatorial satisfaction. According to these gentlemen, every 
 man must finally be his own Saviour ! If I must suffer as 
 much in my own person as will satisfy divine justice, how 
 is or can Christ Jesus be my Saviour? If this purgatorial 
 doctrine be true, the ministry of reconciliation committed 
 to the apostles must be false : ' to wit, God was in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself not imputing unto them 
 their trespasses.* In fact, I know no persons further from 
 Christianity, genuine Christianit}^, than such Universal- 
 ists." 
 
 Mr. Murray supposed the inquietude of unembodied or 
 departed spirits a natural effect derived from a cause. As 
 unbelievers, they cannot see the things which belong to 
 their peace ; but he greatly rejoiced that, however at 
 present enveloped in darkness, there were, and are, things 
 that did and do belong to their peace; that the day cometh, 
 when whatsoever is hid shall be revealed; and that at the 
 period of the restitution of all things the word, the oath 
 of Jehovah was pledged, that every eye should see and 
 every tongue confess. The preacher w^as persuaded that 
 a few even in the present dispensation were elected out 
 of the world to embrace the truth previous to their passing 
 out of time. These judging themselves, are, therefore, not 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 403 
 
 to be judged. Saints of God, they shall surround the Re- 
 deemer at his second coming, or be caught up in the air 
 to meet the God-Man ; after which the whole world shall 
 be summoned at the imperial bar of the Sire of angels and 
 of men, the Creator of all worlds. That a separation will 
 then take place ; the Judge, the Redeemer, will divide them 
 as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats ; will separ- 
 ate every individual from that body of sin and death of 
 which Paul complained, being burdened ; from that fallen 
 spirit which attaches to every individual in such sort as 
 to the man among the tombs, rendering it a truth, that he 
 who sleepeth apparently alone upon his bed is, nevertheless, 
 still connected with his tormentor, and will so continue 
 until this glorious da}" of separation and of restitution; 
 when these two shall be separated one from another, the 
 one taken, the other left. The fallen angels, figured by the 
 goats, shall be ranged on the left hand, while the harassed 
 human nature, redeemed b}^ the God who created it, shall 
 be found on the right hand of the Most High. Thus, 
 after the world is judged out of the things written in the 
 books ; after they are found guilt}- before God, and every 
 mouth is stopped, the book of life shall be opened, in 
 
 WHICH ALL THE MEMBERS OF THE REDEEMER, EVERT IN- 
 DIVIDUAL OF THE Human Family, shall be found writ- 
 ten ; and the ransomed of the Lord shall be declared 
 denizens of that kingdom where dwelleth felicity uninter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Such were the leading sentiments of Our Universalist ; 
 and he was firmly of opinion that the doctrines of the 
 gospel, rightly understood, would teach men everywhere 
 to be careful of maintaining good works, to love one 
 
404 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 another, and in all things to regard the best interests of 
 their brother man.* 
 
 * The following is quoted from the " Letters and Sketches," as Mr. Murray's 
 selection of some of the scriptural vouchers of his beliefs, and as proving " All 
 the sacred writers Uuiversalists " : — 
 
 ALL THE SACRED WRITERS UNIVERSALISTS. 
 
 I have no doctrine but the doctrine taught by God the Saviour. I reject 
 every doctrine which the mouth of the Lord hath not spoken. The apostolic 
 churches were formed by professors of the doctrine of universal redemption. 
 Jesus Christ and his apostles preached and defendeil this doctrine. All the 
 writers of Revelation were strong in the faithlul belief of the doctrine of univer- 
 sal salvation; so saith the Apostle Peter, when speaking of the world's Re- 
 deemer. " The heavens must receive him, until the restitution of all things, 
 which God hath spoken of by the mouth of all his holy prophets, ever since the 
 world began." How much is contained in this single testimony of the apostle I 
 Yes, indeed, God blessed Abraham, and said, " In thee shall all nations of the 
 earth be blessed." 
 
 Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob believed God, and were therefore Universalists. 
 " And the Lord said, I have pardoned according to thy word. But as truly as I 
 live, all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord." Numbers xiv. 20, 21. 
 Moses believed God, and was therefore a Universalist. 
 
 " A_ll the ends ot the world shall remember, and turn unto the Lord, and all 
 the kindred of tlie nations shall worship before thee, for the kingdom is the 
 Lord's. All they that go down to the dust shall bow before him." Psalm xxli. 
 27, 28, 29. " Let the people praise thee, O God, let all the people praise thee." 
 
 " AH nations shall call him blessed, and let the whole earth be filled with his 
 glory. Amen, and amen." Psalm Ixxii. 8, 17, 19. 
 
 "All nations whom thou hast made shall come and worship before thee, 
 Lord, and shall glorify thy name." Psalm Ixxxvi. 9. 
 
 " M7 mouth shall speak the praise of the Lord, and let all flesh bless his holy 
 name forever and ever." Psalm cxlv. 21. 
 
 Thus it appears that the royal prophet was a strong Universalist. 
 
 " 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 sea.'- Isaiah xi. 9. 
 " And in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feast of 
 fat things. And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering casl 
 over all people ; the veil that is spread over all nations ; he will swallow up deatb 
 in victory. And the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces ; and tlu 
 rebuke of his people will he take from off all the earth, for the mouth of the Lore 
 hath spoken it." xxx. 6, 8. 
 
 All this, no doubt, Isaiah fully believed. Isaiah, therefore, was a Universalist 
 
 " Behold the days come, saith the Lord, that 1 will perform tliat good thing 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 405 
 
 Conversant with the preacher upwards of fort}^ 3'ears, we 
 never knew his testimony to var}- in the smallest degree. 
 In jo3^ and in sorrow, in health, in sickness, and in death, 
 
 which I have promised to the house of Israel, and to the house of Judah." See 
 also Jer. xxxi. 31, 34. 
 
 Jeremiah, in full assurance that God would perform what he promised, was 
 unquestionably a Universalist. 
 
 " When thy sister Sodum and her daughters shall return to their former 
 estate, and Samaria and her daughters shall return to their former estate, then 
 thou and thy daughters shall return to thy former estate." Ezekiel xvi. 55. 
 
 Sodom and her daughters were those who suffered the vengeance of eternal 
 fire. But the Prophet Ezekiel, being a Universalist, was persuaded they would 
 not be eternaUi/ suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. 
 
 " Pharaoh shall see them, and be comforted over all his multitude; even Pha- 
 raoh and all his army slain by the sword, saith the Lord." Ezekiel xxxii. 31. 
 
 " Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all 
 your filthiness, and from all your idols will I cleanse you. Then the heathen 
 that are left round about you shall know that I the Lord build the ruined 
 places." Ezekiel xxxvi. 25, 3G. 
 
 Thus we see Ezekiel, in declaring the salvation of Jew and heathen, was a 
 Universalist. 
 
 " Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people, and upon thy holy city, to 
 finish the transgression, and to make an end of sin, and to make reconciliation 
 for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness." Daniel ix. 24. Surely 
 Daniel was a very strong Universalist. 
 
 • Yet the number of the children of Israel shall be as the sand of the sea-shore 
 that cannot be measured or numbered ; and it shall come to pass, that in the place 
 where it was said unto them, ye are not my j>eople, there it shall be said unto 
 them, ye are the sons of the living God." Hosea i. 10. "And I will sow her 
 unto me in the eartli, and I will have mercy on her that had not obtained mercy, 
 and I will say to them which were not my people, thou art my people, and they 
 shall say, thou art my God." Hosea ii. 23. Was net Hosea a Universalist ? 
 
 " And it shall come to pass afterwards, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all 
 flesh," etc. Joel ii. 28. "For I will cleanse their blood, that I have not 
 cleansed." Joel iii. 21. 
 
 " In that day I will raise up the tabernacle of David, that is fallen, and close 
 up the breaches thereof, that they mav possess the remnant of all Edom, and of 
 the heathen, which are called by my name, saith the Lord, that doeth this." 
 Amos ix. 11, 12. 
 
 " And Saviours shall come upon Mount Zion, to judge the mount of Esau, and 
 the kingdom shall be the Lord's." Obadiah, 21. 
 
 " And he shall judge among many people, and rebuke strong nations afar off, 
 and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into prun> 
 
406 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 not a single cloud appeared to gather upon the countenance 
 of his God, or to obstruct, so far as it referred to his pros- 
 pects beyond the grave, the clear sunshine of his soul. 
 
 If we except the Rev. John Tyler, Episcopalian minister 
 in Norwich, Connecticut, and the Rev. Edward Mitchell, in 
 the city of New York, we do not know that the sentiments 
 
 ing-hooks. Nation shall not lift up a sword against nation, neither shall they 
 learn war any more. But they shall sit every man under his vine and under his 
 fig-tree, and none shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord hath 
 spoken it." Micah iv. 3, 4. " He will turn again, he will have compassion upon 
 us, he will subdue all our iniquities, and thou wilt cast all our sins into the depths 
 of the sea. Thou wilt perform the truth to Jacob, and the mercy to Abraham, 
 which thou hast sworn unto our fathers from the days of old." Micah vii. 19, 
 20. Thus, it is plain, the prophets were all Universal ists. 
 
 But the angels of God are also Universalists. Let us listen to those messen- 
 gers of heaven, while addressing the wondering shepherds of Judea. " And the 
 angel said unto them. Fear not, behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, 
 which shall be to all people. And suddenly there was with the angels a multitude 
 of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying. Glory be to God in the highest, 
 and on earth, peace and good-will towards men." Luke ii. 10, 14. 
 
 Th- devout Simeon was a Universalist. " For mine eyes have seen thy sal- 
 vation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people, a light to lighten 
 the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel." Luke ii. .30, 31, 32. 
 
 But that we may ascertain what all the evangelists and all the apostle* 
 were, in one view, let us hear the sentiments of our Saviour himself upon thi* 
 subject. " For I have given unto them the words which thou gavest me, 
 and they have received them." John xvii. 8. " For I have not spoken of my- 
 self, but the Father which sent me ; he gave me a commandment what I should 
 say, and what I should speak, and I know that this commandment is life everlast- 
 ing. Whatsoever I speak, therefore, even as the Father said unto me, so I 
 speak." John xii.49, 50. See, also, ver. .32. 
 
 Let us now attend to the ministry committed to the apostles. " God was in 
 Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing unto them their trt^ 
 passes " 2 Corinthians, ver. 19. " And he shall send Jesus Christ, who before 
 was preached unto you, whom the heavens must receive until the times of the 
 restitution of all things, which God hath spoken by the mouth of all his holy 
 prophets, ever since the world began." Acts iii. 21. 
 
 It is plain, from these testimonies, and many more which might be adduced, 
 that the doctrine of Universalism is the doctrine of God our Saviour; and while 
 the Universalists can produce so many illustrious vouchers, they never can be 
 discomforted, or even embarrassed. — Letters, etc., ii. 422-425. 
 
THE GRAVE OF :,IURRAY 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 407 
 
 of any preacher of Universalism now upon this continent 
 are exactly in unison with the departed promulgator. But 
 if the}' build upon the great foundation, we deA'outly wish 
 them God-speed ; well assured that those who build upon 
 this foundation — "gold, silver, precious stones, wood, 
 haj", stubble — ever}- man's work shall be made manifest. 
 For the da}' shall declare it, because it shall be revealed b}^ 
 fire ; and the fire shall try ever}' man's work, of what sort 
 it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built there- 
 upon, he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall 
 be burnt, he shall sufi'er loss, but he himself shall be 
 saved ; yet so as by fire." 
 
 Mr. Murray's last marriage was the result of a strong 
 and holy friendship, founded upon the Rock of Ages ; and, 
 originating in devout admiration of redeeming love, it is 
 fervently hoped, and unwaveringly believed, that this union 
 will be perfected in another and a better world. 
 
 One son and one daughter were the ofi'spring of this 
 marriage. The son surrendered his innocent life in the 
 birth. The daughter still survives, the prop and consola- 
 tion of her WIDOWED mother. * 
 
 * We quote from Whittemore's " Life of Ballou," the account of Mr. Murray's 
 re-burial in 1837 : — 
 
 " The deeply interesting event of the removal of the remains of Rev. John 
 Murray to Mount Auburn took place on June 8th. From the year 1815 the body 
 had mouldered in the Sargent tomb, in the Granary Burying-ground in Boston, 
 without a stone or inscription of any kind, to denote that the ashes of the man 
 who had stirred the country with the tidings of universal love were resting 
 there. Thi means for the purchase of a lot at Mount Auburn, and the erection 
 of a monument had been raised by the voluntary contributions of Universalists, 
 and everything had been made ready for the reception of all that was left of the 
 body of the animating preacher. About a week before the re-burial, the coffin 
 was removed from the tomb to the vestry of the First Universalist Church, 
 where it was covered neatly with black broadcloth, and a plate affixed, bearing 
 the inscription, ' Rev. John Murray, died Sept. 3, 1815, aged seventy-four.' This 
 
408 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 coffin was placed directly in front of the pulpit from which Murray had so ofteu 
 spoken the words of eternal life. At two o'clock on the afternoon of the eighth 
 of June, the doors were thrown open, when the spacious and venerable edifice 
 was immediately filled, for an immense crowd had been in waiting to enter. 
 The pews in the broad aisle were reserved for the members of the Massachusetts- 
 Convention of Universalists, who had been in session on the previous day at 
 Maiden; and for a few of the companions of Murray in his early labors in Bos- 
 ton, who still lingered on earth. The immense auditory, the striking portrait of 
 Murray hanging in front of the pulpit, the black drapery, the tears of the aged 
 who remembered the man, and of the middle-aged and young who had heard of 
 him, but, above all, the mute coffin shrouded in black, — all conspired to make 
 the scene deeply impressive. The choir rose and sung, * The Lord is risen 
 indeed. He burst the bars of death, and triumphed o'er the grave,' etc. Then 
 jjrayer was offered by an aged clergyman (Rev. Joshua Flagg), who had been a 
 fellow-laborer with the departed. An eloquent discourse was preached by Rev. 
 Sebastian Streeter, from the following appropriate words: ' And the bones of 
 Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in 
 Shechem, in a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor, the 
 father of Shethem, for a hundred pieces of silver : and it became the inheritance 
 of the children of Joseph.' Joshua xxiv. 32. The sermon was very impressive. 
 The speaker was deeply touched with his subject, and frequently gave vent to his 
 feelings in bursts of impassioned eloquence. At the close of services a move- 
 ment took place towards Mount Auburn. Scores of chaises and light carriages 
 proceeded directly to the spot, while the funeral procession was being formed. 
 Fifty-two hackney coaches followed the hearse, containing the members of the 
 convention and the leading Universalists of Boston and the vicinity; and after 
 these came a large number of barouches, the whole forming a procession of 
 more than two-thirds of a mile in extent. Arrived at the gate of the cemetery, 
 although a drizzling rain was falling, the procession was formed on foot, and 
 moved to the grave. Standing on the very verge thereof. Father Ballon, at the 
 request of his brethren, delivered an impressive address. 
 
 "At the close the speaker lifted up his voice in thanksgiving and prayer, — in 
 thanksgiving, that God had blessed this land with the labors of John Murray, 
 and that the cause which that eminent man had espoused in its infancy had been 
 prospered abundantly under the smiles of a benignant Providence; in prayer, 
 that God might bless the solemn services of the day to the moral Improvement 
 of all who were present. And then, after a benediction, the immense crowd 
 dispersed to their homes." — G. L. D.