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 NEW YORK. 
 
II 
 
CHRISTIAN MEMOIRS 
 
 1830. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, 
 BY WILLIAM PEIRCE, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massaehusetts. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Preface, --------5 
 
 Introductory Chapter, - - - - - 11 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 John Bunyan. — Struggles with Sin, - - - - 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Thomas Halliburton. — True and false Religion, - ^ 83 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 George Trosse. — The Change, — or the dissolute vaga- 
 bond renewed, -__... 127 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Andrew Burn. — The Goodness of God leading to R 6' 
 
 pentance, ....... 155 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Charles Martyr. — Faith leading to works, - . 183 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 William Howard. — The ruined outcast Saved, - 195 
 
 t o 
 
 
iV pr.EFACE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 James Gardiner. — The power of Grace, - - 209 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 William Grimshaw. — The Minister made a Christian, 227 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Thomas Bateman. — The sceptical Physician, - 249 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Richard Baxter, ...--- 265 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Christian Biography can never cease to be interesting, so long as 
 a sinofle child of God remains on earth, to be edified, stinmlated 
 and encouraged, in ' the race set before him.' It is, however, a 
 department of writing, which requires much judgment, and discrim- 
 ination, as well as a large measure of Christian experience. It ia 
 not every good man that leaves behind him the materials for an ed- 
 ifying memoir, either in his public life, among his private papers, or 
 in the recollections of his intimate acquaintances ; and even where 
 the materials are rich and ample, a biographical notice may lose its 
 proper effect, by being unskilfully drawn up. It is quite conceiva- 
 ble, moreover, that books of this class, as well as of any other, 
 mio-ht be multiplied beyond convenient and profitable limits. 
 
 But this is far from being the case at present. ' Holy living,' 
 would unquestionably be promoted, by many more well written 
 notices of those, ' who through faith and patience inherit the prom- 
 ises ; ' and sure we are, that the demand will increase with the 
 spread of ' pure and undefiled religion.' That is not a vain curiosi- 
 ty, which inquires with so much interest, for the Lives of those 
 holy men and women, who have ' finished their course with joy,' 
 and ' being dead yet speak.' While the children of God are thus 
 instructed, quickened and humbled, how many of the brightest or- 
 naments in the church could testify, that when they ' were living 
 without God in the world, and had no hope' their first convictiens 
 were waked up, by looking into the memoirs of such devoted ser- 
 vants of Christ, as Bunyan, and Edwards, and Brainerd, and 
 Baxter. 
 
 Even were the circumstances and experience of the saints much 
 nearer alike than they are, it would still be useful to read their sev- 
 2 
 
VI PREFACB. 
 
 eral biographies, for the sake of those minor lights and shades of 
 character, which no similarity of condition, temper, early training, 
 or religious advantages, can ever perfectly blend together. But 
 who does not know, that in point of fact, the diderences are as 
 marked and instructive in the 'household of faith,' as anywhere 
 else ? All the varieties of talent, of disposition, of rank, of edu- 
 eation, of family and extraneous influence, and of earlier and later 
 religious advantages, are found in the church, and all of them help 
 to modify Christian character and experience. Were it possible to 
 write out the lives of all who have gone to heaven, how striking 
 would be seen to have been the divershies of operations by the 
 same spirit, — how various their attainments in knowledge and holi- 
 ness — how diverse their joys and hopes and doubts and fears — 
 their temptations, their conflicts with ' indwelling sin,' — their de- 
 fects, their victories, their zeal, their faith, their supports in sick- 
 ness, and their consolations in the hour of death. 
 
 To such an extent, most obviously, biographical notices of the 
 children of God can never be carried. But a sufficient number of 
 them ought to be written and made accessible to every class of 
 readers, to develope all the leading traits of Christian example and 
 experience, in every age and country ; and in every condition of 
 human life. Let us be devoutly thankful to God, that so much has 
 already been done, in this department of Christian edification. 
 Aside from Scripture biography, which must always stand unrivalled, 
 and which is in every body's hands, Ihere are many precious me- 
 morials of departed excellence to be found, on the book-seller's 
 shelves, in village and Sabbath School libraries, and in private fam- 
 ilies. Some of the most instructive of these, however, are too 
 prolix for common use, or are bound up with the voluminous writ- 
 ir]<rs of the persons whose distinguished names they bear, so as to 
 be put out of the reach of thousands, who might be eminently 
 profited by reading them. 
 
 To obviate these inconveniences, various methods have been 
 adopted, such as printing them in cheap separate volumes ; conden- 
 sinfT and publishing them in the form of tracts, religious annuals and 
 the like. In the present undertaking, a somewhat difi'erent course 
 has been adopted. As it was the wish of the compiler, to bring 
 together as many interesting views of Christian character and ex- 
 perience as possible, within moderate limits, he has selected a con- 
 siderable number of striking examples, from the lives and memoirs 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 which have fallen under his notice. Some of these he has very 
 much abridged, and all of them he has shortened more or less ; 
 interspersing such observations of his own, as he thought might be 
 useful, and taking pains to give a special prominence to the most 
 striking developments of experimental piety. But while this con- 
 densing process is intended to favor that large class of readers, who 
 have but little time or money to spare, it is hoped, that many other 
 persons will be induced by what they find here, to purchase the 
 larger biographies, from which these sketches are mostly taken. 
 
 The original plan of this compilation has been considerably mod- 
 ified. It was at first intended to hold up to view, the nature of gen- 
 uine conviction and conversion, as exhibited in the recorded expe- 
 rience of eminent saints, chiefly of past ages, without devoting 
 much space to their subseq,uent lives. But a little reflection con- 
 vinced the compiler, that such a partial notice of the operations 
 and ' fruits of the Spirit,' would not satisfy the majority of readers, 
 for whose benefit the task was undertaken. No sooner is the intel- 
 ligent Christian made acquainted with the exercises of a sinner's 
 mind before regeneration, and with his 'joy and peace in believing,' 
 when first brought ' out of darkness into marvellous light,' than he 
 wishes to know more of him. How did he live ? Did he adorn 
 his Christian profession ? Did he serve God and his generation 
 faithfully ? Did he hold out to the end ? Did he die in peace ? 
 
 Such are the inquiries which spontaneously spring up in almost 
 every mind, and how can they be answered by merely saying, that 
 during so many weeks, months, or years, he was in great distress of 
 mind, and was at last ' brought up out of the horrible pit and miry 
 clay, and had a new song put into his mouth? ' However thorough 
 and genuine the work of God upon the heart of any sinner may 
 seem to be at first, how can we know that he is really born again ? 
 He may be self-deceived, or he may for a time assume ' the form of 
 godliness ' from sinis;ter motives. The evidence of his conversion is 
 to be sought for in a religious life. ' Every good tree bringeth forth 
 good fruit.' 
 
 This view of the subject suggested another plan, which was to 
 biing together in one small volume, the experiences of fifteen or 
 twenty distinguished Christians, during the process of conviction and 
 regeneration, and then in a second volume, to resume and carry 
 forward their memoirs, for the purpose of showing how they lived 
 and how they died. But this plan, it was obvious, would destroy 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 the unity of the compilation, and divest it of half its value. What 
 the Christian public want, in the biography of a good man, is a 
 succinct, comprehensive and continuous account of his entire life 
 and character. In this way the connection between regeneration 
 and sanctification is distinctly brought into view ; and it is extremely 
 interesting to observe, how a holy life springs from the new birth, 
 as well as to notice the various modifications of piety, resulting 
 from the circumstances under which different individuals are awak- 
 ened and converted. 
 
 In order to cover the whole ground, therefore, and preserve the 
 symmetry of the ' new man' entire, the compiler has selected two 
 classes of memoirs. The first class contains some of the most re- 
 markable examples we could find, to bring into view the agency and 
 mighty power of God in regeneration — and in the second class, the 
 reader will find other examples, equally striking, of the power of 
 religion, as it shines in the devoted lives of true believers. These 
 classes indeed, must, from the very nature of the case, often run 
 into each other; and it is extremely interesting to observe, how they 
 are blended together, so as to be all one in Christ — how there is 
 * one body and one spirit ; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one 
 God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in all.' 
 Still, in the prominent features to which I have alluded, the two 
 classes are sufficiently distinct for our present purpose : and they 
 will be so arranged in this compilation. The first volume will be 
 chiefly taken up whh narratives of the early lives, the atvakening, 
 conviction, and conversion of such men as Bunyan, and Halybur- 
 ton, and Frosse, and Grimshaw, and Gardner ; and the second 
 with the Christian experience and holy living of such men as 
 Owen, and Edwards, and Howard, and Brainerd, and French, and 
 Mather. 
 
 A glance at the contents will show, that in making these selec- 
 tions, the compiler has taken a wider range. He has brought to- 
 gether some of the most distinguished servants of God, from remote 
 £iges and nations, and from different professions and pursuits, that 
 the intelligent reader might, by comparing them together, see, that 
 true religion is essentially one and the same thing at all times and in 
 all places. None of the great and good men whose memoirs will 
 be found in these volumes were perfect, it is true ; — they knew it 
 better than we do. They inherited, it may be, their full share of 
 human infirmities. Certainly they often ' groaned being burdened ;' 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 and O how bitterly were they wont to cry out, from time to time, 
 with Paul, ' Who shall deliver us from the body of this death ! ' 
 From some of their opinions on minor points, we may feel con- 
 strained to dissent ; and imperfections there undoubtedly were, in 
 their characters, which it would be wrong for any one to copy. 
 
 But after all, there will be found a similarity in their views and 
 feelings, and governing principles of action, which is exceedingly 
 instructive. It is manifest, that they ' all ate the same spiritual 
 meat, and drank the same spiritual drink.' Amid all the diversities 
 of temperament, education, and the thousand other influences which 
 modify human character, in everything essential, they harmonized. 
 They cordially embraced all the fundamental doctrines of the 
 Bible, and clave to them with their dying breath. They entertain- 
 ed similar views of the holiness, strictness and purity of God"s law, 
 and of the ' exceeding sinfulness ' of sin. They felt and acknowK 
 edged, that ' by nature they were children of wrath,' wholly de- 
 praved, and justly liable to everlasting punishment. They saw and 
 felt, under the striving of the Spirit that they were in a helpless as 
 well as a miserable condition, such being the opposition of their 
 hearts to God, that nothing short of his power could ever subdue 
 them. They were all alike, so far as their feelings are developed 
 in these memoirs, led to despair of 'justification by the deeds of the 
 Jaw,' and to cast themselves upon Him who < is the end of the law 
 for righteousness to every one that believeth.' In looking back 
 upon their former deplorable and guilty state, after they began to 
 hope their hearts were changed, they all with one consent ascribed 
 the change, not to moral suasion; not to their own resolutions or ef- 
 forts ; but to the sovereign and new-creating energy of the Holy 
 Ghost. They were ever ready to magnify ' the exceeding great- 
 ness of the power of God ' in their regeneration. They spoke of 
 it familiarly, as ' according to the working of his mighty power, 
 which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and 
 set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places.' It was mat- 
 ter of astonishment to them, that God did not suddenly cut them 
 off in their sins, or leave them in judicial blindness and hardness cf 
 heart, to 'treasure up wrath against the day of wrath.' Grace, 
 grace — free grace! surprising grace I — this was the theme on 
 which they all delighted to dwell. 
 
 Nor while they magnified the riches of divine grace in their efs 
 fectual calling, and depended solely on Christ for pardon and salva- 
 *2 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 tion, did they consider themselves absolved from obedience to ' one 
 jot or tittle of the law.' On the contrary, they felt that their obliga- 
 tions to keep the law were immensely mcreased, by what Christ had 
 done to deliver them from its curse, and redeem them to God by his 
 own blood. Their grief was, not that the law was so strict and 
 holy, but that they fell so far short of that perfect obedience which 
 it requires We cannot indeed be certain, that they were all bom 
 again — that they have all gone to heaven ; for it is the prerogative 
 of God alone to ' search the heart and try the reins; ' but when we 
 examine the evidence that they had passed from death unto life, in 
 the light of God's word, and when we look at their holy and devot- 
 ed lives, and accompany them down into the valley of the shadow 
 of death, how can we doubt that they are now in the regions of the 
 blessed ? The pious reader will rejoice, as he turns over page after 
 paffe, and proceeds from one sketch to another, to find so much of 
 the Bible in the deep and searching experience, and in the bright 
 example of the men, whose memorial is contained in this little 
 volume : and as he traces out that striking resemblance to which I 
 have already alluded, in all the essential features of Christian char- 
 acter he will recognize with gratitude and admiration ' One and the 
 self-same Spirit, dividing to every man severally as he will.' May 
 that good Spirit enlighten the mind and sanctify the heart of every 
 reader, and graciously accept of this feeble attempt to glorify Him 
 who is over all God blessed forever. Amen. 
 
 Amherst CoUes^e, Dec. 8, 1835. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER 
 
 The following extracts from President Edwards' Alarratian of 
 Surprising Conversions, in a letter to the Rev. Dr. Colman, are 
 inserted here, as the most suitable introduction to the present volume 
 which the corupiler has been able to furnish.* After giving his 
 friend a particular account of the commencement and progress of 
 that remarkable revival of religion in Northampton which took 
 place under his ministry- in 1734-5, Edwards thus lays open the ex- 
 ercises of awakened and convicted sinners. 
 
 In the manner of persons being wrought upon, there is a vast 
 Tariety, perhaps as manifold as the subjects of the operation ; but 
 yet in many things there is a great analogy in all. 
 
 Persons are first awakened with a sense of their miserable 
 condition by nature, the danger they are in of perishing eternally, 
 and that it is of great importance to them that they speedily es- 
 cape, and get into a better state. Those that before were secure 
 and senseless, are made sensible how much they were in the way 
 to ruin in their former courses. Some are more suddenly seized 
 with convictions ; it may be by the news of others' conversion, or 
 something they hear in public or private conference, their con- 
 sciences are suddenly smitten, as if their hearts were pierced through 
 with a dart : others have awakenings that come upon them more 
 gradually, they begin at first to be something more thoughtful and 
 considerate, so as to come to a conclusion in their minds, that it is 
 their best and wisest way to delay no longer, but to improve the 
 present opportunity ; and have accordingly set themselves seriously 
 to meditate on those things that have the most awakening tendency, 
 
 * See Edward's Works, vol. iii. Worcester Editiou. 
 
12 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 on purpose to obtain convictions ; and so their awakenings have in- 
 creased, till a sense of their misery, by God's tfpirit setting in 
 therewith, has had fast hold of them. Others that, before this 
 wondeiful time, had been somethmg religious and concerned for 
 their salvation, have been awakened in a new manner, and made 
 sensible that their slack and dull way of seeking was never like 
 to attain their purpose, and so have been raised up to a greater vio- 
 lence for the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 These awakenings, when they have first seized upon persons, 
 have had two effects : one was that they have brought them imrae- 
 diatelv to quit their sinful practices, and the looser sort have been 
 brought to forsake and dread their former vices and extravagances. 
 When once the Spirit of God began to be so wonderfully poured 
 out in a general wav through the town, people had soon done with 
 their old quarrels, backbitings, and intermeddlings with other men's 
 matters ; the tavern was soon left empty, and persons kept very 
 much at hooie ; none went abroad unless on necessary business, or 
 on some religious account, and every day seeuied in many respects 
 like a Sabbath-day. And the other effect was, that it put them on 
 earnest application to the means of salvation, reading, prayer, med- 
 itation, the ordinances of God"s house, and private conference ; 
 their cry was, " What shall we do to be saved ? " The place of 
 resort was now altered, it was no longer the tavern, but the n)inis- 
 ter's house ; that was thronged far more than ever the tavern had 
 been wont to be. 
 
 'i here is a very great variety, as to the degree of fear and trcuble 
 that persons are exercised with, before they obtain any comfortable 
 evidence of pardon and acceptance with God : some are from the 
 beginning carried on with abundantly more encouragement and hope, 
 than others : some have had ten times less trouble of mind than 
 others, in whom yet the issue seems to be the same. Some have 
 had such a sense of the displeasure of God, and the great danger 
 they were in of damnation, that they could not sleep at night ; and 
 many have said that when they have laid down, the thought of 
 sleeping in such a condition have been frightful to them, and they 
 have scarcely been free from terror while asleep, and they have 
 awaked with fear, heaviness, and distress still abiding on their 
 spirits. It has been very common, that the deep and fixed concern 
 that has been on person's minds, has had a painful influence ou 
 their bodies, and given disturbance to animal nature. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 13 
 
 The awful apprehensions persons have had of their misery, have 
 for the most part been increasing, the nearer they have approached to 
 deliverance, though they often pass through many changes, and alter- 
 ations in the frame and circumstances of their minds : sometimes 
 they think themselves wholly senseless, and fear that the Spirit of 
 God has left them, and that they are given up to judicial hardness ; 
 yet they appear very deeply exercised about that fear, and are in 
 great earnest to obtain convictions again. 
 
 Together with these fears, and that exercise of mind which is 
 rational, and which they have just ground for, they have often suf- 
 fered many needless distresses of thought, in which Satan probably 
 has a great hand, to entangle them, and block up their way ; and 
 sometimes the distemper of melancholy has been evidently mixed ; 
 of which, when it happens, the tempter seems to make great advan- 
 tage, and puts an unhappy bar in the way of any good effect : one 
 knows not how to deal with such persons ; they turn everything 
 that is said to them the wrong way, and most to their own disadvan- 
 tage : and there is nothing that the devil seems to make so great a 
 handle of, as a melancholy humor, unless it be the real corruption 
 of the heart. 
 
 But it has been very remarkable, that there has been far less of 
 this mixture in this time of extraordinary blessings, than there was 
 wont to be in persons under awakenings at other times ; for it is evi- 
 dent that many that before had been exceedingly involved in such 
 difficulties, seemed now strangely to be set at liberty. Some per- 
 sons that had before for a long time, been exceedingly entangled with 
 peculiar temptations, of one sort or other, and unprofitable and hurt- 
 ful distresses, were soon helped over stumbling blocks, that had for- 
 merly hindered any progress towards saving good ; and convictions 
 have wrought more kindly, and they have been successfully car- 
 ried on in the way to life. And thus Satan seemed to be restrained, 
 till towards the latter end of this wonderful time, when God's Spirit 
 was about to withdraw. 
 
 Many times persons under great awakenings were concerned, be- 
 cause they thought they were not awakened, but miserable, hard- 
 hearted, senseless, sottish creatures still, and sleeping upon the brink 
 of hell. The sense of the need they have to be awakened, and of 
 their comparative hardness, grows upon them with their awakenings ; 
 so that they seem to themselves to be very senseless, when indeed 
 most sensible. There have been some instances of persons that 
 
14 INTKODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 have had as great a sense of their danger and misery, as their na- 
 tures could well subsist under, so that a little more would probably 
 have destroyed them ; and yet they have expressed themselves 
 much aniazed at their own insensibility and sottishnessin such an ex- 
 traordinary time as it then was. 
 
 Persons are sometimes brought to the borders of despair, and it 
 looks as black as midnight to them a little before the day dawns in 
 their souls ; some few instances there have been of persons, who 
 have had such a sense of God's wrath for sin, that they have been 
 overborne, and made to cry out under an astonishing sense of their 
 guilt, wondering that God suffers such guilty wretches to live upon 
 earth, and that he doth not immediately send them to hell ; and 
 sometimes their guilt does so glare them in the face, that they are 
 in exceeding terror for fear that God will instantly do it ; but more 
 commonly the distresses under legal awakenings have not been to 
 such a degree. In some these terrors do not seem to be so sharp, 
 when near comfort, as before; their convictions have not seemed 
 to work so much that way, but they seem to be led further down in- 
 to their own hearts, to a further sense of their own universal de- 
 pravity, and deadness in sin. 
 
 The corruption of the heart has discovered itself in various exer- 
 cises in the time of legal convictions ; sometimes it appears in a 
 great struggle, like something roused by an enemy, and Satan the 
 old inhabitant seems to exert himself, like a serpent disturbed and 
 enraged. Many in such circumstances, have felt a great spirit of en- 
 vy, towards the godly, especially towards those that are thought to 
 have been lately converted, and most of all towards acquaintances 
 and companions, when they were thought to be converted. Indeed 
 some have felt many heart-risings against God, and murmurings at 
 his ways of dealing with mankind, and his dealings with them- 
 selves in particular. It has been much insisted on, both in public 
 and private, that persons should have the utmost dread of such envi- 
 ous thoughts, which, if allowed, tend exceedingly to quench the 
 Spirit of God, if not to provoke him finally to forsake them. And 
 when such a spirit has much prevailed, and persons have not so earn- 
 estly strove against it, as they ought to have done, it has seemed to 
 be exceedingly to the hindrance of the good of their souls : but in 
 some other instances, where persons have been much terrified at the 
 sight of such wickedness in their hearts, God has brought good to 
 thern out of evil 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTEK. 15 
 
 their owfii desperate sinfulness, and bringing them off from all self- 
 confidence. 
 
 The drift of thd Spirit of God fn his legal strivings' with person*, 
 has seemed most evident!}' to be, to niake way for, and t<t brin* to', 
 a conviction of their absolute dependence on his sovereign power 
 and grace, and universal necessity of a mediator, by leading them 
 more and more to a sense of their exceeding wickedness, and guilti- 
 ness in his sight ; the pollution, and insufficiency of their own right- 
 eousness, that they can in no wise help themselves, and that Cod 
 would be wholly just and righteous in rejecting them, and all that 
 they do, and in casting them off forever : though there be a vast 
 variety, as to the manner, and distinctness of persons' convictions of 
 these things. 
 
 As they are gradually more and more convinced of the corrnp"- 
 tion and wickedness of their hearts, they seem to themselves to grow 
 worse and worse, harder and blinder, and more desperately wicked, 
 instead of growing better. Ihey are ready to be discouraged by 
 it, and oftentimes never think themselves so far off from good, as 
 when they are nearest Under the sense which the Spirit of Ciod 
 gives them of their sinfulness, they often think that they difler from 
 all others ; their hearts are ready to sink with the thought, that 
 they are the worst of all, and that none evor obtained mercy that 
 were so wicked as they. 
 
 When awakenings first begin, their consciences are commonly 
 most exercised about their outward vicious course, or other acts of 
 sin ; but afterwards, are much more burdened with a sense of heart 
 sins, the dreadful corruption of their nature, their enmity against 
 God, the pride of their hearts, their unbelief, their rejection of 
 Christ, the stubbornness and obstinacy of their wills ; and the like. 
 In many, God makes much use of their own experience, in the 
 course of their awakenings, and endeavors after saving good, to con- 
 vince them of their own vile emptiness and universal depravity. 
 
 Very often under first awakenings, when they are brought to re- 
 flect on the sin of their past lives, and have something of a terrify- 
 ing sense of God's anger, they set themselves to walk more strictly, 
 and confess their sins, and perform many religious duties, with a se- 
 cret hope of appeasing God's anger, and making up for the sins 
 they have committed. And oftentimes, at first setting out, their af- 
 fections are moved, and they are full of tears, in their confessions 
 and prayers, which they are ready to make very much of, as though 
 
16 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 they were some atonement, and had power to more corresponding 
 affections in God too : and hence they are for awhile big with ex- 
 pectation of what God will do for them ; and conceive that they 
 grow better apace, and shall soon be thoroughly converted. But 
 these affections are but shortlived, they quickly find that they fail, 
 and then they think themselves to be grown worse again; they do 
 not find such a prospect of being soon converted as they thought ; 
 instead of being nearer, they seem to be farther off; their hearts 
 they think are grown harder, and by this means their fears of per- 
 ishing greatly increase. But though they are disappointed, they 
 renew their attempts again and again ; and still as their attempts are 
 multiplied, so are their disappointments : all fail, they see no token 
 of having inclined God's heart to them, they do not see that he 
 hears their prayers at all, as they expected he would ; and some- 
 times there have been great temptations arising hence to leave off 
 seeking, and to yield up the case. But as they are still more terri- 
 fied with fears of perishing, and their former hopes of prevailing on 
 God to be merciful to them in a great measure fail, sometimes their 
 religious affections have turned into heart-risings against God, because 
 that he would not pity them, and seems to have little regard to their 
 distress and piteous cries, and to all the pains they take ; they think 
 of the mercy that God has shown to others, how soon and liow ea- 
 sily others have obtained comfort, and those too that were worse 
 than they, and have not labored so much as they have done, and 
 sometimes they have had dreadful blasphemous thoughts, in these 
 circumstances. 
 
 But when they reflect on these wicked workings of heart against 
 God, if their convictions are continued, and the Spirit of God is not 
 provoked utterly to forsake them, they have more distressing ap- 
 prehensions of the anger of God towards those, whose hearts work 
 after such a sinful manner about him ; and it may be, have great 
 fears that they have committed the unpardonable sin, or that God 
 will surely never show mercy to them that are such vipers : and are 
 often tempted to leave ofl^ in despair. 
 
 But then perhaps, by something they read or hear of the infinite 
 mercy of God, and all-sufficiency of Christ for the chief of sinners ; 
 they have some encouragement and hope renewed ; but think that 
 as yet they are not fit to come to Christ, they are so wicked that 
 Christ will never accept them : and then it may be that they set 
 themselves upon a new course of fruitless endeavors in their own 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 17 
 
 Strength to make themselves better, and still meet with new disap- 
 pointments. They are earnest to inquire what they shall do. 
 They do not know but there is something else to be done, in order 
 to their obtaining converting grace, that they have never done yet. 
 It may be they hope that they are something better than they were, 
 but then the pleasing dream all vanishes again. If they are told 
 that they trust too much to their own strength and righteousness, 
 they cannot unlearn this practice all at once, and find not yettheap- 
 pearance of any good, but all looks as dark as midnight to them. 
 Thus they wander about from mountain to hill, seeking rest and find- 
 ing none. When they are beat out of one refuge they fly to ano- 
 ther, till they are, as it were, debilitated, broken, and subdued with 
 legal humblings : in which God gives them a conviction of their 
 own utter helplessness and insuthciency, and discovers the true rem- 
 edy in a clearer knowledge of Christ and his gospel. 
 
 When tiiey begin to seek salvation, they are commonly profound- 
 ly ignorant of themselves; they are not sensible how blind they 
 are, and how little they can do towards bringing themselves to see 
 spiritual things aright, and towards putting forth gracious exercises 
 in their own souls ; they are not sensible how remote they are from 
 love to God, and other holy dispositions, and how dead they are ia 
 sin. When they see unexpected pollution in their own hearts they 
 go about to wash away their own defilements, and make themselves 
 clean ; and they weary themselves in vain, till God shows them it 
 is in vain, and that their help is not ^^here they have sought it, but 
 elsewhere. 
 
 But some persons continue wandering in such a kind of labyrinth, 
 ten times as long as others, before their own experience will con- 
 vince them of their insufficiency ; and so it appears not to be their 
 own experience only, but the convincing influence of God's Spirit 
 with their experience that attains the effect. And God has of late 
 abundantly shown that he does not need to wait to have men con- 
 vinced by long and often repeated, fruitless trials ; for in multitudes 
 of instances he has made a shorter work of it. He has so awakened 
 and convinced persons' consciences, and made them so sensible of 
 their exceeding great vileness, and given them such a sense of his 
 wrath against sin, as has quickly overcome all their vain self-confi- 
 dence, and borne them down into the dust before a holy and righte- 
 ous God. 
 
 There have been some who have not had great terrors, but have 
 
18 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 had a very quick work. Some of those that have not had so deep 
 a conviction of these things before their conversion, have, it may be, 
 much more of it afterwards. God has appeared far from limiting 
 himself to any certain method in his proceedings with sinners tinder 
 legal convictions. In some instances it seems easy for our reason- 
 ing powers to discern the methods of divine wisdom, in his dealings 
 with the soul under awakenings : in others his footsteps cannot be 
 traced, and his ways are past finding out : and some that are less dis- 
 tinctly wrought upon, in what is preparatory to grace, appear no less 
 eminent in gracious experiences afterwards. 
 
 There is in nothing a greater difference, in different persons, than 
 with respect to the time of their being under trouble ; some but a 
 few days, and others for months or years. There were many in this 
 town that had been before this effusion of God's Spirit upon us, for 
 years, and some for many years concerned about their salvation ; 
 though probably they were not thoroughly awakened, yet they were 
 concerned to such a degree as to be very uneasy, so as to live an un- 
 comfortable, disquieted life, and so as to continue in a way of taking 
 considerable pains about their salvation, but had never obtained any 
 comfortable evidence of a good estate, who now in this extraordina- 
 ry time have received light ; but many of them were some of the 
 last : they first saw multitudes of others rejoicing, and with songs of 
 deliverance in their mouths, who seemed wholly careless and at 
 ease, and in pursuit of vanity, while they had been bowed down 
 with solicitude about their souls ; yea, some had lived licentiously, 
 and so continued till a little before they were converted, and grew 
 up to a holy rejoicing in the infinite blessings God has bestowed upon 
 them. 
 
 And whatever minister has a like occasion to deal with souls, in 
 a flock under such circumstances, as this was in the last year, I can- 
 not but think he will soon find himself under a necessity, greatly to 
 insist upon it with them, that God is under no manner of obligation 
 to show any mercy to any natural man, whose heart is not turned 
 to God : and that a man can challenge nothing, either in absolute 
 justice, or by free promise, from anything he does before he has be- 
 lieved on Jesus Christ, or has true repentance begun in him. It ap- 
 pears to me, that if I had taught those that came to me under trou- 
 ble, any other doctrine, I should have taken a most direct course ut- 
 terly to have undone them : I should have directly crossed what wa» 
 plainly the drift of the Spirit of God in his influences upon them; 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 19 
 
 for if they had believed what I said, it would either have promoted 
 self-flattery and carelessness, and so put an end to their awaken- 
 ings ; or cherished and established their contention and strife with 
 God, concerning his dealings with them and others, and blocked up 
 their way to that humiliation before the sovereign Disposer of life 
 and death, whereby God is wont to prepare them for his consola- 
 tions. And yet those that have been under awakenings, have often- 
 times plainly stood in need of being encouraged, by being told of 
 the infinite and all-sufficient mercy of God in Christ ; and that it is 
 God's manner to succeed diligence, and to bless his own means, 
 that so awakenings and encouragements, fear and hope, may be duly 
 mixed, and proportioned to preserve their minds in a just medium 
 between the two extremes of self-flattery and despondence, both 
 which tend to slackness and negligence, and in the end to secu- 
 rity. 
 
 I think I have found that no discourses have been more remarka- 
 bly blessed, than those in which the doctrine of God's absolute sove- 
 reignty with regard to the salvation of sinners, and his just liberty, 
 with regard to answering the prayers, or succeeding the pains of 
 mere natural men, continuing such, have been insisted on. I never 
 found so much immediate saving fruit, in any measure, of any dis- 
 courses I have ofl^ered to my congregation, as some from those 
 words, Romans, 3 : 19. " That every mouth may be stopped ; " 
 endeavoring to show from thence that it would be just with God for- 
 ever to reject and cast off" mere natural man. 
 
 In those in whom awakenings seem to have a saving issue, com- 
 monly the first thing that appears after their legal troubles, is a con- 
 viction of the justice of God in their condemnation, in a sense of 
 their own exceeding sinfulness, and the vileness of all their per- 
 formances. In giving an account of this they expressed themselves 
 very variously ; some, that they saw that God was a sovereign, 
 and might receive others and reject them ; some, that they were 
 convinced, that God might justly bestow mercy on every person in 
 the town, and on every person in the world, and damn themselves 
 to all eternity ; some, that they see that God may justly have no re- 
 gard to all the pains they have taken, and all the prayers they have 
 made ; some, that they see that if they should seek, and take the 
 utmost pains all their lives, God might justly cast them into hell at 
 last, because all their labors, prayers and tears, cannot make an 
 atonement for the least sin, nor merit any blessing at the hands of 
 
20 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 God ; some have declared themselves to be in the hands of God, 
 that he can and may dispose of them just as he pleases ; some that 
 God may glorify himself in their damnation, and they wonder that 
 God has suffered them to live so long, and has not cast them into 
 hell long ago. 
 
 Some are brought to this conviction, by a great sense of their 
 sinfuluess, in general, that they are such vile wicked creatures in 
 heart and life : others have the sins of their lives in an extraordinary 
 manner set before them, multitudes of them coming just then fresh 
 to their memory, and being set before them with their aggravations ; 
 some have their minds especially fixed, on some particular wicked 
 practice they have indulged ; some are especially convinced by a 
 sight of the corruption and wickedness of their hearts ; some from 
 a view they have of the horridness of some particular exercises of 
 corruption, which they have had in the time of their awakening, 
 whereby the enmity of the heart against God has been manifested ; 
 some are convinced especially by a sense of the sin of unbelief, the 
 opposition of their hearts to the way of salvation by Christ, and 
 their obstinacy in rejecting him and his grace." 
 
 Did our limits permit, it would be highly interesting and profit- 
 able to continue our extracts to a much greater length, and espec- 
 ially to insert some of those paragraphs, in which the exercises of 
 young converts are delineated by the same masterly hand. But it 
 being the great object of this volume, to show by examples what 
 genuine conviction and conversion are, rather than to trace out 
 the progress of sanctijication, we pass on to the memoirs. 
 
CHRISTIAN MEMOIRS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONVERSION OF JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 The celebrated John Bunyan was born about two hun- 
 dred years ago, in a small village called Elston, near 
 Bedford, which is about fifty miles north of London, 
 In one of his works, he has given a considerably minute 
 account of his early life, so that we are enabled to give 
 our readers the narrative of his conversion nearly in his 
 own words. The account is addressed to his children, 
 
 His history before his Conversioti. 
 
 " In this my relation of the merciful working of God 
 upon my soul," says he, "it will not be amiss, if, in the 
 first place, I do, in a few words, give you a hint of my 
 pedigree, and manner of bringing up ; that thereby the 
 goodness and bounty of God towards me maj^ be the 
 more advanced and magnified before the sons of men. 
 For my descent, then, it was, as is well known to many, 
 of a low, inconsiderable generation ; my father's house 
 being of that rank that is meanest, and most despised of 
 all the families in the land. Wherefore, I have not here, 
 as others, to boast of noble blood, or of any high born 
 *2 
 
22 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 state, according to the flesh ; though all things consider- 
 ed, I magnify the heavenly Majesty, for that by this 
 door he brought me into this world, to partake of the 
 grace and life that is in Christ by the Gospel. 
 
 But yet, notwithstanding the meanness and inconsid- 
 erableness of my parents, it pleased God to put it into their 
 hearts to put me to school, to learn both to read and to 
 write ; the which I also attained, according to the rate 
 of the poor men's children, though to my shame I con- 
 fess, I did soon lose that little I learnt, even almost ut- 
 terly, and that long before the Lord did work his gra- 
 cious work of conversion upon my soul. 
 
 As for my own natural life, for the time that I was 
 without God in the world, it was, indeed, according to 
 the course of this world, and the spirit that now worketh 
 in the children of disobedience.' It was my deUght to 
 be ' taken captive by the devil at his will,' being filled with 
 all unrighteousness; the which also did so strongly 
 work, and put forth itself, both in my heart and life, and 
 that from a child, that I had but few equals for cursing, 
 swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God. 
 Yea, so settled and rooted was I in these things, that 
 they became as a second nature to me ; the which, as I 
 have with soberness considered since, did so offend the 
 Lord, that even in my childhood he did scare and affright 
 me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with fearful 
 visions. For often, after I have spent this and the other 
 day in sin, I have in my bed been greatly afflicted, while 
 asleep, with the apprehensions of wicked spirits, who 
 still as I then thought, labored to draw me away with 
 them, of which I could never be rid. 
 
 Also I was during these years, greatly afflicted and 
 troubled with the thoughts of the fearful torments of 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 23 
 
 hell-fire ; still fearing, that it would be my lot to be found 
 at last among those who are bound down with the 
 chains and bonds of darkness, unto the judgment of the 
 great day. 
 
 These things I say, when I was but a child, but nine 
 or ten years old, did so distress my soul, that then in the 
 midst of my many sports and childish vanities, amidst 
 my vain companions, I was often much cast down, and 
 afflicted in my mind therewith, yet could I not let go 
 my sins. 
 
 A while after those terrible dreams did leave me, which 
 also I soon forgot ; for my pleasures did quickly cut off 
 the remembrance of them, as if they had never been : 
 wherefore with more greediness, acct)rding to the strength 
 of nature, 1 did still let loose the reins of my lust, and 
 delighted in all transgressions against the law of God ; 
 so that I was the very ringleader of all the youth that 
 kept me company, in all manner of vice and ungodli- 
 ness. Yea, such prevalency had the lusts and fruits of 
 the flesh on this poor soul of mine, that had not a mira- 
 cle of precious grace prevented, I had not only perished 
 by the stroke of eternal justice, but had also laid myself 
 open even to the stroke of those laws which bring some 
 to disgrace and open shame before the face of the world. 
 
 In those da3's the thought of religion was very grie- 
 vous to me; I could neither endure it myself, nor that any 
 other should ; so that when I have seen some read in 
 those books that concerned Christian piety, it would be as 
 it were a prison to me. Then I said unto God, ' Depart 
 from me, for I desire not the knowledge of thy ways.' 
 I was now void of all good consideration, heaven and 
 hell were both out of sight and mind ; and as for saving 
 and damning, they were least in my thoughts. O Lord, 
 
24 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 thou knowest my life, and my ways were not hid from 
 thee! 
 
 Bat God did not utterly leave me, but followed me 
 still, not with convictions, but judgments; yet such as 
 were mixed with mercy. For once 1 fell into a creek of 
 the sea, and hardly escaped drowning. Another time I 
 fell out of a boat into Bedford River, but mercy yet pre- 
 serv^ed me alive: besides, another time, being in the field 
 with one of my companions, it chanced that an adder 
 passed over the highway, so I, having a stick in my 
 hand, struck her over the back ; and having stunned her, 
 1 forced open her mouth with my stick, and plucked her 
 tongue out with my fingers, b}^ which act, had not God 
 been m.erciful unto me, I might, by my desperateness, 
 have brought myself to my end. 
 
 This also, I have taken notice of, with thanksgiving. 
 When I was a soldier, 1, with others, was drawn out to 
 go to a certain place, to besiege it : but when I was just 
 r.ady to go, one of the company desired to go in my 
 room, to which when I consented, he took my place ; 
 and coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was 
 shot in the head with a musket-bullet, and died. 
 
 Here, as I said, were judgments and mercy, but nei- 
 ther of tbem did awaken my soul to righteousness, where- 
 fore I sinned still, and grew more and more rebellious 
 against God, and careless of my own salvation. 
 
 Presently after this I changed my condition into a 
 married state, and my mercy v.-as, to light upon a wife 
 whose father was counted godly. This woman and I 
 though we came together as poor as poor might be, not 
 having so much household stuff as a dish or spoon be- 
 twixt us both, yet this she had for her part, ' The Plain 
 man's Pathway to Heaven;' and the 'Practice of 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 25 
 
 Piety:' which her father had left her wlien he died. In 
 these two books I would sometimes read with her, where- 
 in I also found some things that were somewhat pleasing 
 to me : but all this while I met with no conviction. She 
 also would be often telling me what a godly man her fa- 
 ther was, and how he would reprove and correct vice, 
 both in his house, and among his neighbors, and what a 
 strict and holy life he lived in his days, both in word and 
 deeds. 
 
 Wherefore these books, with the relation, though they 
 did not reach my heart to awaken it about my sad and 
 sinful state, yet they did beget within me some desires to 
 reform my vicious life, and fall in very eagerly with the 
 religion of the times; to wit, to go to church twice a day, 
 and that too with the foremost. And there, I would be 
 very devout, and both say and sing as others did; yet I 
 retained my wicked life. But withal, I was so overrun 
 with the spirit of superstition, that I adored, and that 
 with great devotion, even all things belonging to the 
 church; the high place, priest, clerk, vestment, service, 
 &c. ; counting all things holj^ that were therein contained, 
 and especially the priest and clerk most happy, and with- 
 out doubt, greatly blessed, because they were the servants, 
 as I then thought, of God, and were principally in the 
 holy temple, to do his work therein. 
 
 But all this while I was not sensible of the danger and 
 evil of sin ; I was kept from considering that sin would 
 damn me, what religion soever I followed, unless I was 
 found in Christ ; nay, I never thought of him, nor whe- 
 ther there was such a one or no. Thus man, while blind, 
 doth wander, but wearieth himself with vanit}^ for he 
 knoweth not the way to the city of God. 
 
 But one day, amongst all the sermons our parson made, 
 
26 JOHN bunyan. 
 
 his subject was to treat of the Sabbath-day, and of the 
 evil of breaking that, either with labor, sports or other- 
 wise. Now I was, notwithstanding my religion, one 
 that took iiiuch delight in all manner of vice, and espec- 
 ially that was the day that I did solace myself therewith ; 
 wherefore I fell in my conscience under this sermon, 
 thinking and believing that he made that sermon of pur- 
 pose to show me my evil doing. And at that time I 
 felt what guilt was, though never before that I can re- 
 mem.bcr; but then I was, for the present, greatly laden 
 therewith, and so went home when the sermon was 
 ended, with a great burden upon my spirit. 
 
 This, for that instant, did benumb the sinews of my 
 best dehghts, and did imbitter m}^ former pleasures to me ; 
 but it lasted not, for before 1 had v/ell dined, the trouble 
 began to go off my mind, and my heart returned to my 
 old course. But oh ! how glad was I that this trouble 
 was gone from me, and that the fire was put out, that I 
 might sin again without control ! Wherefore when I 
 had satisfied nature with m}" food, I shook the sermon 
 out of my mind, and to my old custom of sports and 
 gaming, 1 returned with great delight. 
 
 But the same day, as I was in the midst of a game of 
 cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as 
 I was about to strike it a second time, a voice did suddenly 
 dart from heaven into my soul, which said, " Wilt thou 
 leave thy sins and go to heaven 1 or have thy sins and 
 ^0 to hell ? " At this I was put to an exceeding maze J 
 wherefore, leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up 
 to heaven, and was as if I had, with the eyes of my un- 
 derstanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, 
 as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if he did 
 
JOilN BUNYAN. 27 
 
 severely threaten n'ie with some grievous punishment for 
 these and other ungodly practices. 
 
 I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, but sud- 
 denly, this conclusion was fastened on my spirit, that I 
 had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was now 
 too late for me to look after heaven ; for Christ would not 
 forgive m.e, nor pardon my transgressions. Then I fell to 
 musing on this also ; and while 1 was thinking of it, and 
 fearing lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, 
 concluding it was too late, and therefore I resolved in my 
 mind to go on in sin ; for, thought I, if the case be thus, 
 my state is surely miserable ; miserable if I leave my 
 sins, and but miserable if I follow them ; I can but be 
 damned, and if I must be so, 1 had as good be damned 
 for many sins, as damned for few. 
 
 Thus I stood in the midst of my pla3^ before all that 
 then were present; but yet I told thein nothing. But I 
 say, having made this conclusion, I returned desperately 
 to my sport again, and I well remember that presently this 
 kind of despair did so possess my soul, that I was per- 
 suaded I could never attain to other comfort than what I 
 could get in sin, for heaven was gone alread3^ so that on 
 that I must not think; wherefore, I found within me 
 great desire to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin 
 was yet to be committed, that I might taste the sweet- 
 ness of it ; and I made as much haste as I could to fill 
 my belly with its delicacies, lest I should die before 1 had 
 my desires; for that I feared greatly. In these things 
 I protest before God, I lie not, neither do I frame this 
 sort of speech : these were xeaWy, strongly, and with 
 all my heart, my desires. The good Lord, whose mercy 
 is unsearchable, forgive my transgressions. 
 
 And I am more confident, that this temptation of the 
 
28 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 devil is more usual among poor creatures than many are 
 aware of, even to overrun the spirits with a seared frame 
 of heart, and benumbing of conscience, which frame he 
 stilly and slyly supplieth with such despair, that, though 
 not much guilt attendeth such, yet they have continually 
 a secret conclusion within them, that there is no hope for 
 them ; for they have loved sins, therefore after them they 
 will go. 'But thou saidst, There is no hope : no ; for I 
 have loved strangers, and after them will I go. — And 
 they said. There is no hope; but we will walk every one 
 after our own devices, and we will every one do the imag- 
 ination of his evil heart.' 
 
 Now, therefore, I went on in sin with great greediness 
 of mind, still grudging that I could not be satisfied with 
 it as I would. This did continue v/ith me about a 
 month or more, but one day as I was standing by a 
 neighbor's shop-window, and there cursing and swearing, 
 and playing the mad-man, after my wonted manner, 
 there sat within the woman of the house and heard me; 
 who though she was a very loose, ungodly wretch, yet 
 protested I swore and cursed at that most fearful rate, 
 that she was made to tremble to hear me ; and told me 
 further, that I was the ungodliest fellow for swearing she 
 ever heard in all her life ; and that I by thus doing, was 
 able to spoil all the youth in the whole town, if they 
 came but in my company. 
 
 At this reproof, I was silenced and put to secret shame, 
 and that too, as I thought, before the God of heaven ; 
 wherefore while I stood there, and hanging down my 
 head, I wished with all my heart that I might be a little 
 child again, that my father might teach me to speak 
 •without this wicked way of swearing ; for, thought I, 1 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 29 
 
 am so accustomed to it, that it is in vain for me to think 
 of a reformation ; for I thought that could never be. 
 
 But how it came to pass I know not ; I did from that 
 time forward so leave my swearing, that it was a great 
 wonder to myself to observe it; and whereas before 1 knew 
 not how to speak, unless I put an oath before and another 
 behind, to make my words have authority, now I could, 
 without it, speak better and with more pleasantness than 
 ever I could before. All this while I knew not Jesus 
 Christ, neither did leave my sports and plays. 
 
 But quickly after this, I fell into companj^ with one 
 poor man who made profession of religion, who, as I then 
 thought, did talk pleasantly of the Scriptures, and of the 
 matter of religion, wherefore falling into some love and 
 liking to what he said, I betook me to the Bible, and be- 
 gan to take great pleasure in rending, and especially the 
 historical part thereof ; for as for Paul's epistles, and 
 such like Scriptures, I could not away with them; being 
 as yet ignorant either of the corruptions of my nature, 
 or of the want and worth of Jesus Christ to save us. 
 
 Wherefore I fell to some outward reformation both in 
 m}^ words and life, and did set the commandments before' 
 me for my way to heaven; which commandments I also 
 did strive to keep, and, as I thought, did keep them pret- 
 ty well sometimes, ^nd then I would have comfort ; yet 
 now and then would break one, and so afflict my con- 
 science ; but then I would repent, and say I was sorry 
 for it, and promise God to do better next time, and there 
 got help again ; for then I thought I pleased God as well 
 as any man in Englnnd. 
 
 Thus I continued about a year; all which time our 
 neighbors did take me to be a very godly man, a new and 
 religious man, and did marvel much to see such great 
 
30 JOHN BUNYAI^. 
 
 and famous alteration in my life and manners ; and iti* 
 deed so it was, though I knew not Christ, nor grace, nor 
 faith, nor hope ; for as I have well since seen, had I 
 then died, my state had been most fearful. 
 
 But, I say, my neighbors marvelled at this my great 
 conversion from prodigious profaneness, to something 
 like a moral life, and truly, so they m ght. Now there- 
 fore they began to praise, to commend, and to speak well 
 of me, both to my face and behind my back. Now I 
 was, as they said, become godly ; now I was become a 
 right honest nrian. But oh ! when I nndt rstood those 
 were their words and opinions of me, it pleased me 
 mighty well. For though as yet I was nothing but a 
 poor painted hj^pocrite, yet 1 loved to be talked of as one 
 that was truly godly. I was proud of my godliness, and 
 indeed, 1 did all I did either to be seen, or to be well spoken 
 of by men : and thus I continued for about a twelve-month 
 or more. 
 
 All this while, when I thought I kept this or that 
 commandment, or did by word or deed, anything that 1 
 thought was good, I had great peace in my conscience, 
 and would think with myself, God cannot choose but 
 be now pleased with me : yea, to relate it in my own 
 wa3% I thought no man in England could please God 
 better than I. But poor wretch as I was, I was all this 
 while ignorant of Jesus Christ, and going about to es- 
 tablish my own righteousness; and had perished therein, 
 had not God, in mercy, showed me more of my state by 
 
 By this narrative we are most forcibly taught, that 
 there is no real pleasure in the ways of sin. " There is 
 no peace, saiih my God, to the wicked." "The way of 
 transgressors is hard." Sin promises pleasures, but yields 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 31 
 
 only pain : honor, bat it leads to disgrace ; happiness, 
 but it tends to misery. This Bunyan found. He made 
 himself crooked ways, and while he walked in them, he 
 was getting" farther and farther from God, from purity, 
 from felicity, from heaven. So also, convictions of sin 
 may be felt by those who love it, and wish not to part 
 with it ; and though there may be a reformation of con- 
 duct, yet there may be no change of heart. 
 
 All who properly consider the character of Bunyan, 
 must be convinced of the necessity of a change in his 
 heart and life, in order to his being made fit for heaven, 
 and a suitable companion for the spirits of the just made 
 perfect. The disparity is so great between purity and 
 depravity, that we ask, " How can two wtilk together 
 except they be agreed ?" And knowing that God is im- 
 mutable in his nature, in his law, and also in his threaten- 
 ings to enforce its penalties, we naturally infer that a 
 change must take place in the sinner. That as he is dead 
 in trespasses and sins, and walking according to the 
 course of this world, being led captive by the devil at his 
 will, if ever his mind be changed, and he pursues heav- 
 enly and divine objects, it must be through the power of 
 the Holy Spirit, hy whom he is created anew in Christ 
 Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained 
 that he should walk in them. This gracious change 
 Bunyan did at length experience. The manner in which 
 it was accomplished, and the effects produced by it, he 
 himself relates. 
 
32 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 His Convers ion. 
 
 " Upon a day, the good providence of God called me 
 to Bedford, to work at my calling ; and in one of the 
 streets of that town, I came where there were three or 
 four poor women sitting at the door, in the sun, talking 
 about the things of God; and being now willing to 
 hear their discourse, I drew near to hear what they said, 
 for I was now a brisk talker of myself, in the matters of 
 religion ; but I may sa3% I heard but understood not ; 
 for they were far above out of my reach. Their talk 
 was about a new birth, the work of God in their hearts, 
 as also how they w^ere convinced of their miserable state 
 by nature ; they talked how God had visited their souls 
 with his love m the Lord Jesus, and with what words 
 and promises they had been refreshed, comforted and sup- 
 ported against the temptations of the devil: moreover, 
 they reasoned of the suggestions and temptations of Sa- 
 tan in particular ; and told to each other by what means 
 they had been afflicted, and how they were borne up 
 under his assaults. They also discoursed of their own 
 wretchedness of heart, and of their unbelief; and did 
 contemn, slight and abhor their own righteousness, as 
 filthy and insufficient to do them any good. 
 
 And methought they spake as if joy did make them 
 speak ; they spake with such pleasantness of Scripture 
 language, and with appearance of grace in all they said, 
 that they w^ere to me as if they had found a new world ; 
 as if they were people that dwelt alone, and were not to 
 be reckoned among their neighbors. 
 
 At this I felt my own heart be^an to shake, and mis- 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 66 
 
 trust my condition to be naught ; for I saw that in all 
 my thouglits about religion and salvation, the new- 
 birth had never entered into my mind ; neither knew I 
 the comfort of the word of promise, nor the deceitfulness 
 and treachery of my owm wicked heart. As for secret 
 thoughts, 1 took no notice of them ; neither did I under- 
 stand what Satan's temptations were, nor how they were 
 to be withstood and resisted, &c. 
 
 Thus, therefore, when I had heard and considered 
 what they said, 1 left them and went about my employ- 
 ment again, but their talk and discourse went with me ; 
 also my heart would tarry with them, for I was greatly 
 affected with their words, both because by them I was 
 convinced that I wanted the true tokens of a truly godly 
 man, and also, because by them I was convinced of the 
 blessed and happy condition of him that was such a one. 
 
 Therefore, I would often make it my business to be 
 going again and again into the company of these poor 
 people, for I could not stay away ; and the more I went 
 among them, the more did I question my condition ; and 
 as I still do remember, presently I found two things with- 
 in me, at which I did sometimes marvel, especially con- 
 sidering what a blind, ignorant, sordid and ungodlj^ 
 wretch but just before I was. The one was a very great 
 softness and tenderness of heart, which caused me to fall 
 under the conviction of what by Scripture they asserted, 
 and the other was a great bending in my mind, to a con- 
 tinual meditating on it, and on all other good things, 
 which at any time I heard, or read of. 
 
 By these things my mind was now so turned to, and 
 
 fixed upon eternity, and on the things about the kingdom 
 
 of heaven — that so far as I know, though as yet, God 
 
 knows, I knew but little, neither pleasure, nor profits, nor 
 
 #4 
 
34 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 persuasions, nor threats, could loose it, or make it let go its 
 hold, and though I may speak it with shame, yet it is in 
 very deed a certain truth, it would then have been as dif- 
 ficult for me to have taken my mind from heaven to earth, 
 as I have often found it since, to get again from earth to 
 heaven. 
 
 One thing 1 may not omit : There was a young man 
 in our town, to whom my heart before was knit more 
 than to any other, but he being a most wicked creature 
 for cursing and swearing, and lewdness, I now shook him 
 off, and forsook his company; but about a quarter of a 
 year after I had left him, I met him in a certain lane, and 
 asked him how he did ; he, after his old swearing and 
 mad wsij, answered he was well. ' But Harry,' said I, 
 ' Why do you curse and swear thus 1 What will become 
 of you, if you die in this condition?' He answered me 
 in a great anger." 
 
 Bunj'^an about this time met with books written by 
 some enthusiastic men of his day, who lived to disgrace 
 their profession. He says, " Some of these I read, but 
 was not able to make any judgment about them; u^here- 
 fore, as 1 read in them, and thought upon them, seeing 
 myself unable to judge, I would betake myself to hearty 
 prayer in this manner: 'O Lord, I am a fool, and not 
 able to know the truth from error; Lord, leave me not to 
 my own blindness, either to approve of or condemn this 
 doctrine, if it be of God, let me not despise it : if it be of 
 the devil, let me not embrace it. Lord, I lay my soul in 
 this matter only at thy foot, let me not be deceived, I 
 humbly beseech thee.' 
 
 These people would also talk to me of their ways, and 
 condemn me as legal and dark, pretending that they on- 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 35 
 
 \y had attained to perfection, that they could do what 
 they would, and not sin. Oh ! these temptations were 
 suitable to my flesh, I being but a young man, and my 
 nature in its prime ; but God, who had, as I hoped, de- 
 signed me for better things, kept me in the fear of his 
 name, and did not suffer me to accept of such accursed 
 principles. And blessed be God, who put it into my heart 
 to cry to him to be kept and directed, still distrusting my 
 own wisdom, for 1 have seen even the effects of that 
 prayer, in his preserving me, not only from these errors, 
 but from those also that have sprung up since. The Bi- 
 ble was precious to me in those days. 
 
 And now, methought, I began to look into the Bible 
 with new eyes, and read as 1 never did before, and espe- 
 cially the epistles of the Apostle Paul weie sweet and 
 pleasant to me ; and indeed then I was never out of the 
 Bible, either by reading or meditation ; still crying out to 
 God, that I might know the truth, and way to heaven 
 and glory. 
 
 About this time, the state and happiness of these poor 
 people at Bedford was thus, in a kind of vision, presented 
 to me. I saw as if they were on the sunny side of some 
 high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the 
 pleasant beams of the sun, while I was shivering and 
 shrinking in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow, and dark 
 clouds: methought also, betwixt me and them, I saw a 
 wall that did compass about this mountain ; now through 
 this wall my soul did greatly desire to pass, concluding, 
 that if I could, I would even go into the very rnidst of 
 them, and there also comfort m3^self with the heat of 
 their sun. About this wall 1 bethought myself to go 
 again and again, still prying as I went, to see if I could 
 find some way or passage, by which I might enter there- 
 
36 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 in ; but none could I find for sometime ; at the last, 1 
 saw, as it were, a narrow gap, like a little door-way in 
 the wall, through which I attempted to pass. Now the 
 passage being very strait and narrow, I made many ef- 
 forts to get in, but all in vain, even until I was well nigh 
 quite beat out, by striving to get in ; at last, with great 
 striving, methought I did at first get in my head, and 
 after that, by a sidelong striving, my shoulders, and then 
 my whole body: then I was exceeding glad, went and 
 sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted 
 with the light and heat of their sun. 
 
 But as yet I could not attain to any comfortable per- 
 suasion that I had faith in Christ; but instead of having 
 satisfaction here, I began to find my soul to be assaulted 
 with fresh doubts about my future happiness ; especial- 
 ly with such as these, whether I was elected, and wheth- 
 er the day of grace might not now be past and gone? 
 
 By these two temptations I was very much afllicted 
 and disquieted ; sometimes by one, and sometimes by the 
 other of them. And first to speak about my questioning 
 my election; I found at this time, that though I was in 
 a flame to find the way to heaven and glory, and though 
 nothing could beat me off from this, yet this question did 
 so offend and discourage me, that I was, especially, 
 sometimes, as if the very strength of my body also had 
 been taken away by the force and power thereof. This 
 Scripture did also seem to me to trample upon all my 
 desires : ' It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that 
 runneth; bat of God that showeth mercy.' Rom. 
 9: 16. 
 
 With this Scripture 1 could not tell what to do, for I 
 thought that unless the great God, of his infinite grace 
 and bounty, had voluntarily chosen me to be a vessel of 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 37 
 
 mercy, though I should desire, and long, and labor until 
 my heart did break, no good could come of it. Therefore 
 this would stick with me, ' How can you tell that you 
 are elected? And what if you should not? How 
 then? 
 
 • O Lord,' thought I, ' what if I should not indeed ! ' 
 ' It may be you are not,' said the tempter. • It may be 
 so indeed,' thought I. ' Why, then,' said Satan, ' you 
 had as good leave off, and strive no farther ; for if indeed 
 you should not be elected and chosen of God, there is no 
 hope of your being saved ; ' For it is not of him that 
 willeth nor of him that runneth ; but of God that show- 
 eth mercy.' 
 
 By these things I was driven to my wit's end, not 
 knowing what to say, or how to answer these tempta- 
 tions ; indeed, I little thought that Satan had thus as- 
 saulted me, but that rather it was my own prudence thus 
 to start the question ; for that the elect only obtained 
 eternal life, that I without scruple heartily closed withal ; 
 I thought I was sure ; but that 1 myself was one of 
 them : there lay the question. 
 
 Thus, for several days, I was greatly assaulted and 
 perplexed, and was often, when I have been walking, 
 ready to sink where I went, with faintness in mind ; but 
 one day, after I had beeen so many weeks oppressed and 
 cast down therewith, as I was now quite giving up the 
 ghost of all my hopes of ever attaining life, that sentence 
 fell with weight upon my spirit, ' Look at the genera- 
 tions of old and see ; did ever any trust in God and were 
 confounded ? ' 
 
 At this I was greatly enlightened, and encouraged in 
 my soul ; for thus, at that very instant, it was expounded 
 to me: ' Begin at the beo-inning of Genesis, and read 
 
38 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 to the end of the Revelation, and see if you can find 
 that there were ever any that trusted in the Lord and 
 were confounded.' So coming home I presentlj^ went to 
 my Bible, to see if I could find that saymg;, not doubting 
 but to find it presently ; for it was so fresh, and with such 
 strength and comfort on my spirit, that it was as if it 
 talked with me. WeU I looked, but I found it not ; only 
 it abode upon me. 
 
 Thus I continued above a year, and could not find the 
 place; but at last, casting my eye upon the Apocryphal 
 books, I found it in Ecclesiasticus, ' Look at the genera- 
 tions of old and see, did ever any trust in the Lord and 
 was confounded? or did any abide in his fear and was 
 forsaken 1 or whom did he ever despise tliat called upon 
 him?' This at the first did somewhat daunt me; but 
 because by this time I had got more experience of the 
 love and kindness of God, it troubled m.e less, especially 
 when I considered that though it was not in those texts 
 that we call holy and canonical, yet forasmuch as this 
 sentence was the sum and substance of many of the 
 promises, it was my duty to take the comfort of it ; and 
 I bless God for that word, for it was of good to me: 
 that word doth still oft-times shine before my face. 
 
 After this, that other doubt did come with strength 
 upon me, 'But how if the day of grace should be past 
 and gone? How if you have overstood the day of mer- 
 cy?' Now I remember that one day as I was walking 
 in the country, I was much in the thoughts of this, 
 ' But how if the day of grace is past ? ' And to aggra- 
 vate my trouble, the tempter presented to my mind those 
 good people of Bedford, and suggested this unto me, 
 that these being converted already, they were all that 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 39 
 
 God would save in those parts ; and that I came too 
 late, for these had got the blessing before I came. 
 
 Now I was in great distress, thinking in very deed 
 that this might well be so, wherefore I went up and 
 down, bemoaning my sad condition, counting myself far 
 worse than a thousand fools, for standing off thus long, 
 and spending so many years in sin as i had done ; still 
 crying out, O that I had turned sooner ! O that 1 had 
 turned seven years ago ! It made me also angry w^ith 
 myself to think that 1 should have no more wit, but to 
 trifle away my time, till my soul and heaven were 
 lost. 
 
 But when I had been long vexed with this fear, and 
 was scarce able to take one step more, just about the same 
 place where I received my other encouragement, these 
 words broke in upon my mind, ' Compel them to come in 
 that my house may be filled ; ' ' And yd there is room.' 
 Luke 14: 22,23. These words, but especially 'And 
 yet there is room,' were sweet words to me; for truly 
 I thought that by them I saw there was place enough in 
 heaven for me; and moreover, that when the Lord Jesus 
 did speak these words, he then did think of me; and that 
 he knowing that the lime would come, that I should be af- 
 flicted with fear, that there was no place left for me in 
 his bosom, did before speak this word, and leave it upon 
 record, that I might find help thereby against this vile 
 temptation. This I then verily believed. 
 
 In the light and encouragement of this word I went 
 for some time ; and the comfort was the more, when I 
 thought that the Lord Jesus should think on me so long 
 ago, and that he should speak those words on purpose for 
 my sake ; for I did think verily, that he did on pur- 
 pose speak thern to encourage me withal. 
 
40 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 But I was not without my temptations to go back 
 again ; temptations, I say, both from Satan, mine own 
 heart, and carnal acquaintance ; but I thank God these 
 were outweighed by that sound sense of death, and of the 
 day of judgment, which abode as it were, continually in 
 my view; I would often also think of Nebuchadnezzar; 
 of whom It is said, * He had given him all the kingdoms 
 of the earth, and for the majesty that he gave him, all 
 people, nations, and languages, trembled and feared be- 
 fore him ; whom he would he slew, and whom he would 
 he kept alive, and whom he would he set up, and whom 
 he would he put down. ' Yet,' thought I, ' if this great 
 man had all his portion in this world, one hour in hell 
 would make him forget all:' which consideration was a 
 great help to me. 
 
 I found by the word, that those that must be glorified 
 with Christ in another world, must be called by him 
 here ; called to the partaking of a share in his word and 
 righteousness, and to the comforts and first fruits of his 
 Spirit ; and to a peculiar interest in all those heavenly 
 things, which do indeed prepare the soul for that rest and 
 house of glory, which is in heaven above. 
 
 Here again I was at a very stand, not knowing what 
 to do, fearing I was not called ; ' for,' thought I, 'if I be 
 not called, what then can can do me good ? None but 
 those who are effectually called inherit the kingdom of 
 heaven.' But oh how I now loved those words which 
 spake of a Christian's calling! as when the Lord said 
 to one, ' Follow me,' and to another, ' Come after me : ' 
 and 'oh,' thought I, that he would say this to me too; 
 how gladly would I run after him I ' 
 
 I cannot now express with what longings and breath- 
 ings in my soul I cried to Christ to call me. Thus I 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 41 
 
 continued for a time all on a flame to be converted to 
 Jesus Christ; and did also see at that day, such glory in 
 a converted state, that 1 could not be contented without a 
 share therein. Gold ! — Could it have been gotten for 
 gold, what would I have given for it ! Had I the whole 
 world, it had all gone ten thousand times over for this, 
 •that my soul might have been in a converted state. 
 
 How lovely now was every one in my eyes that 1 
 thought to be converted, whether man or woman ! They 
 shone, they walked like a people that carried the broad 
 ' seal of heaven about them. Oh ! I saw the ' lot was fall- 
 en to them in pleasant places, and they had a goodly 
 heritage.' But that which made me sick, w^as what 
 Christ said in St. Mark, ' He went up into a mountain, 
 and called to him whom he would, and they came unto 
 him.' Mark 3: 13. 
 
 This Scripture made rne faint and fear, yet it kindled 
 fire in my soul. That which made me fear, was this, lest 
 Christ should have no liking to me, for he called whom he 
 would. But oh the glory that I saw in that condition, did 
 so engage my heart, that I could seldom read of any that 
 Christ did call, but I presently wished, ' Would I had 
 been in their clothes, would I had been born Peter: 
 would I had been born John ; or, would I had been by 
 and heard him when he called them, how would I have 
 cried, O Lord, call me also ! But, oh, I feared he would 
 not call me ! ' 
 
 And truly, the Lord let me go thus many months to- 
 gether, and showed me nothing, either that I was already, 
 or should be called hereafter; but at last after much 
 time spent, and many groans to God that I might be 
 made partaker of the holy and heavenly calling, that 
 word came in upon me : ' I will cleanse their blood, that 
 5 
 
42 JOHN BIJNYAN. 
 
 I have not cleansed, for the Lord dwelleth in Zion. 
 These words I thought were sent to encourage me to 
 wait still upon God ; and signified unto me, that if I were 
 not already, the time might come, when I might be in 
 truth converted unto Christ. 
 
 About this time I began to break my mind to those 
 poor people in Bedford, and to tell them my condition ; 
 which when they had heard, they told Mr. Gifford of me, 
 who himself also took occasion to talk with me; and 
 was willing to be well persuaded of me, though I think 
 from little grounds: but he invited me to his house, 
 where I should hear him confer with others, about the 
 dealings of God with their souls: from all which I still 
 received more conviction, and from that time began to see 
 something of the vanity and inward wretchedness of my 
 wicked heart; for as yet I knew no great matter therein. 
 But now it began to be discovered unto me, and also to 
 work at that rate as it never did before. Now I evidently 
 found, that lusts and corruptions put forth themselves 
 within me, in wicked thoughts and desires, which I did 
 not regard before ; my desires also for life and heaven 
 began to fail. I found also, that whereas before my soul 
 was full of longing after God, now it began to hanker 
 after every foolish vanity ; yea, my heart would not be 
 moved to mind that which was good ; it began to be 
 careless, both of my soul and heaven ; it would now con- 
 tinually hang back, both to, and in every duty; and 
 was as a clog on the leg of a bird, to hinder it from 
 flying. 
 
 Nay, I thought now I grew worse and worse ; now I 
 am farther from conversion than I ever was before 
 wherefore I began to entertain such discouragement in 
 my heart, as laid me low as hell. If now I should hav 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 43 
 
 burned at the stake, I could not believe that Christ had a 
 love for me ; alas, I could neither hear him, nor see him, 
 nor feel him, nor savor any of his things ; I was driven 
 as with a tempest, my heart would be unclean, and the 
 Canaanites would dwell in the land. 
 
 Sometimes I would tell my condition to the people of 
 God, which when they heard they would pity me, and 
 would tell me of the promises ; but they had as good 
 have told me that I must reach the sun with my finger, 
 as have bidden me receive or rely upon the promises : 
 and as soon I should have done it. All my sense and 
 feeling were against me ; and I saw I had a heart that 
 would sin, and that lay under a law that would con- 
 demn. 
 
 These things have often made me think of the child 
 which the father brought to Christ, ' who while he was 
 yet coming to him, was thrown down by the devil, and also 
 so rent and torn by him, that he lay, and wallowed, 
 foaming.' Farther in these days, I would find my heart 
 shut itself up against the Lord and against his holy 
 word ; I have found my unbelief to set, as it were, the 
 shoulder to the door, to keep him out ; and that too, even 
 then, when I have with many a bitter sigh cried, • Good 
 Lord, break it open ! ' Lord, break these gates of brass, 
 and cut these bars of iron asunder.' 
 
 But all this while, as to the act of sinning, I was never 
 more tender than now ; I durst not take a pin or stick, 
 though but so big as a straw ; for my conscience now^ 
 was sore, and would smart at every touch. I could not 
 now tell how to speak my words, for fear I should mis- 
 place them. Oh how cautiously did T then go, in all I 
 did or said ! 1 found myself as in a miry bog that shook if 
 I did but stir, and was, as there, left both of God, and 
 Christ, and the Spirit, and all good things. 
 
44 JOHN eunyan. 
 
 But I observed, though I was such a great sinner before 
 conversion, yet God never much charged the guilt of the 
 sins of my ignorance upon me ; only he showed me 1 was 
 lost if I had not Christ because I had been a sinner. I 
 saw that I wanted a perfect righteousness to present me 
 without fault before God, and this righteousness was no- 
 where to be found, but in the person of Jesus Christ. 
 
 But my original and inward pollution ; that, that w^as 
 my plague and affliction, that I saw at a dreadful rate, 
 always putting forth itself within me ; that I had the 
 guilt of to amazement : by reason of that, I was more 
 loathsome in mine own eyes, than a toad, and 1 thought 
 I w^as so in God's eyes too. Sin and corruption, I said, 
 would as naturally bubble out of my heart, as w^ater would 
 out of a fountain. I thought that every one had a better 
 heart than I had ; I could have changed hearts wdth 
 anybody; I thought none, but the devil himself could 
 equal me for inward wickedness and pollution of mind. 
 I fell therefore at the sight of my own vileness deeply into 
 despair; for I concluded that this condition that I was in 
 could not stand with a state of grace. Sure thought I, 
 I am forsaken of God ; sure I am given up to the devil and 
 to a reprobate mind; and thus I continued a long while, 
 even for some j^ears together. 
 
 While I was thus afflicted w^ith the fears of my own 
 damnation, there were two things which w^ould make me 
 wonder ; the one was, when I saw^ old people hunting after 
 the things of this life, as if they should live here always; the 
 other was, when I found professors much distressed and cast 
 down, when they met with outward losses ; as of husband, 
 wife, child, &c. 'Lord,' thought I, 'what ado is here 
 about such little thmgs as these ! What seeking after 
 carnal things, by some, and what grief in others for the 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 45 
 
 loss of them ! If they so much labor after, and shed so 
 many tears for the things of this present life, how am I 
 to be bemoaned, pitied, and prayed for ! My soul is dying, 
 my soul is damning. Were my soul but in a good con- 
 dition, and were I but sure of it, ah how rich should I 
 esteem mj^self, though blessed but with bread and water ! 
 I should count those but small afflictions, and should bear 
 them as little burdens. A wounded spirit who can 
 bear?' 
 
 And though I was much troubled and tossed and afflict- 
 ed, with the sight, and sense, and terror of my own wick- 
 edness, yet I was afraid to let this sight and sense go quite 
 off my mind ; for I found, that unless guilt of conscience 
 was taken off the right way, that is by the blood of Christ, 
 a man grew rather worse for the loss of his trouble of 
 mind. Wherefore if my sense of guilt lay hard upon me, 
 then would I cry that the blood of Christ might take it 
 off-, and if it was going off without it, (for the sense of 
 sin would be sometimes as if it would die, and go quite 
 away,) then I would also strive to fetch it upon my heart 
 again, by bringing the punishment of sin in hell fire upon 
 my spirits ; and would crj', ' Lord, let it not go off my 
 heart, but the right way, by the blood of Christ, and the 
 application of thy mercj^ through him to my soul ; ' for 
 this Scripture did lay much upon me, 'Without shedding 
 of blood there is no remission.' And that which made 
 me the more afraid of this, was, because I had seen some, 
 who, though when they were under the wounds of con- 
 science, would cr}^ and pray ; yet seeking rather present 
 ease for their trouble than pardon for their sin, they cared 
 not how they lost their sense of guilt so they get it out of 
 their mind. Now having got off the wrong way, it was 
 not sanctified unto them ; but they grew harder and 
 •5 
 
46 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 blinder, and more wicked after their trouble. This made 
 me afraid, and made me crj to God the more, that it 
 might not be so with me. 
 
 And now I was sorrj'- that God had made me a man ; 
 for I feared 1 was a reprobate; I counted man, as uncon- 
 verted, the most doleful of all creatures. Thus being 
 afflicted, and tossed about my sad condition, I counted 
 myself alone, and above the most of m.en unblessed. 
 
 Yea, I thought it impossible that ever 1 should attain 
 to such godliness of heart, as to thank God that he 
 had made me a man. Man, indeed, is the most noble, by 
 creation, of all creatures in the visible world ; but by sin, 
 he has made himself the most ignoble. The beasts, birds, 
 fishes, &c. I blessed their condition, for they had not a 
 sinful nature ; they were not obnoxious to the wrath of 
 God ; they were not to go to hell after death ; I could 
 therefore have rejoiced, had my condition been any of 
 theirs. 
 
 Tn this condition I went a great while, but when the 
 comforting time was come, I heard one preach a sermon 
 from these words in Solomon's Song, ' Behold thou art 
 fair, my love ; behold thou art fair.' But at that time he 
 made these two words, 'my love,' his chief and subject 
 matter from which, after he had a little opened the text, he 
 observed these several conclusions: 
 
 1. That the church, and so every saved soul is Christ's 
 love, when loveless. 
 
 2. Christ's love without a cause. 
 
 3. Christ's love, which hath been hated of the 
 world. 
 
 4 Christ's love, when under temptation and under dis- 
 traction. 
 
 5. Christ's love, from first to last. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 47 
 
 But I got nothing by what he said at present ; only 
 when he came to the application of the fourth particular, 
 this was the word he said, ' If it be so, that the saved soul 
 is Christ's love when under temptation and distraction ; 
 then, poor tempted soul, when thou art assaulted, and 
 afflicted with temptations, and the hidings of God's face, 
 yet think on these t^vo words, 'my love,' still. 
 
 So as I was going home, these two words carne again 
 into my thoughts; and I well remember, as they came in, 
 I said thus in my heart, ' AVhat shall 1 get by thinking 
 on these two words? ' This thoug_ht had no sooner passed 
 through my heart, but these words began to kindle in my 
 spirit, ' Thou art my love, thou art my love,' twenty 
 times together; and still as they ran through my mind, 
 they waxed stronger and warmer, and began to make me 
 look up; but being as yet between hope and fear, I still 
 replied in my heart, ' But is it true, but is it true?' At 
 which, this sentence fell upon me, ' He wist not that it 
 was true, which was done unto him of the angel.' 
 
 Then I began to give place to the word which with 
 power did over and over make this joyful sound within 
 my soul, ' Thou art my love, thou art my love ; and 
 nothing shall separate thee from my love.' And with 
 that m}^ heart was filled with comfort and hope, and now 
 I could believe that my sins would be forgiven me : yea, I 
 was now so taken with the love and mercy of God, that 
 I remember I could not tell how to contain till I got home. 
 I thought I could have spoken of his love, and have told 
 of his mercy to me, even to the very crows that sat upon 
 the ploughed lands before me, had they been capable to 
 have understood me; wherefore I said in my soul, with 
 much gladness, ' Well, would I had pen and ink here, I 
 would write this down before I go any farther ; for surely, 
 
48 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 I shall not forget this fortj^ ye^rs hence ! ' But alas ! 
 within less than forty days I began to question all again; 
 which made me begin to question all still. 
 
 Yet still at times 1 was helped to believe, that it was a 
 true manifestation of grace unto my soul, though I had 
 lost much of the life and savor of it. Now about a 
 a week or a fortnight after this I was much followed by 
 this Scripture, ' Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired 
 to have you ; ' and sometimes it would sound so loud 
 within me, yea, and as it were, call so strongly after me, 
 that once, above all the rest, 1 turned my head over my 
 shoulder, thinking verily, that some man behind me had 
 called me ; * being at a great distance, methought he call- 
 ed so loud. It came, as I have thought since, to have 
 stirred me up to prayer, and to watchfulness ; it came to 
 acquaint me, that a cloud and a storm were coming down 
 upon me : but I understood it not. 
 
 For about the space of a month after, a very great storm 
 came down upon me, which handled me twenty times 
 worse than all I had met with before; it came stealing 
 upon me, now by one piece, then by another. First, all 
 my comfort was taken from me ; then darkness seized 
 upon me ; after which, whole floods of blasphemies, both 
 against God, and Christ, and the Scriptures, were poured 
 upon my spirit, to my great confusion and astonishment. 
 These blasphemous thoughts were such as stirred up 
 questions in me against the very being of God, and of his 
 only-begotten Son : as whether there v/ere, in truth, a 
 God, or Christ ; and whether the holy Scriptures were 
 
 * It is not surprising that a man so excitable and ardent asBun- 
 yan, should have had his imagination thus disturbed, by the long 
 continuation of such strong emotion. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 49 
 
 not rather a fable, and cunning story, than the holy and 
 pure word of God. 
 
 These things did sink me into very deep despair ; fori 
 conduded that such things could not possibly be found 
 amongst them that loved God. Often, when these temp- 
 tations had been with force upon me, did I com.pare my- 
 self with the case of a child, whom some gipsey hath by 
 force taken up in her arms, and is carrying from friend 
 and country. Resist sometimes I did, and also shriek 
 and cry ; but yet I was bound in the wings of the temp- 
 tation, and the wind would carry me away. I thought 
 also of Saul, and of the evil spirit that did possess him; 
 and did greatly fear that my condition was the same 
 with his. 
 
 In these days, when I have heard others talk of what 
 was the sin against the Holy Ghost, then would the 
 tempter so provoke me to desire to sin that sin, that I was 
 as if I could not, must not, neither should be quiet until I 
 had committed it. Now no sin would serve but that, if 
 it were to be committed by speaking of such a word, then 
 I have been as if my mouth would have spoken that 
 word, whether I would or no. 
 
 Now again, 1 beheld the condition of the dog and toad, 
 and counted the estate of everything that God had made 
 far belter than this dreadful state of mine, and such as 
 my companions were. Yea, gladly would I have been 
 in the condition of a dog or a horse ; for I knew they had 
 no souls to perish under the everlasting weight of hell or 
 sin, as mine was like to do. Nay, and though I saw this, 
 felt this, and was broken to pieces with it, yet that which 
 added to my sorrow was, that I could not find that, with 
 all my soul, I did desire deliverance. That Scripture 
 did also tear and rend m}^ soul in the midst of these dis- 
 
50 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 tractions. ' The wicked are like the troubled sea, which 
 cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.' * There 
 is no peace to the wicked, saith my God.' 
 
 And now my heart was, at times, exceeding hard. If 
 I would have given a thousand pounds for a tear, I could 
 not shed one ; no nor sometimes scarce desire to shed one. 
 I was much dejected to think that this would be my lot. 
 I saw some could mourn and lament their sin: and 
 others, ajrain, could rejoice and bless God for Christ ; and 
 others, again, could quietly talk of, and remember with 
 gladness the word of God, while I on]y, was m the storm 
 or tempest. This much sunk me ; 1 thought my condi- 
 tion was alone ; I world therefore much bewail my hard 
 hap, but get out of, or get rid of these things, I could not. 
 
 While this temptation lasted, which was about a year, 
 I could attend upon none of the ordinances of God, but 
 with sore and great affliction. 
 
 In prayer also, I have been greatly troubled at this 
 time ; the devil would be continually at me in time of 
 prayer. ' Have done, break off; make haste, you have 
 prayed enough,' and 'stay no longer;' still drawing my 
 mind away. Sometimes, also, he would cast in such 
 wicked thoughts as these, that I must pray to him, or 
 for him : I have thought sometimes of that, ' fall down ; ' 
 or, ' if thou wilt fall down and worship m.e.' Also, when 
 because I have had wandering thoughts in the time of 
 this duty, I have labored to compose my mind, and fix it 
 upon God, then with great force, hath the tempter labor- 
 ed to distract me, and confound me, and to turn away my 
 mind. 
 
 Yet at times I would have some strong and heart-af- 
 fecting apprehensions of God, and the reality of the truth 
 of his gospel. But, oh, how would my heart at such 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 51 
 
 times put forth itself in inexpressible groanings ! My 
 whole soul was then in every word ; I would cry with 
 pangs after God, that he would be merciful unto me. 
 But then I would be daunted again with such conceits as 
 these. I would think that God did mock at these my 
 prayers, saying, and that in the audience of the holy an- 
 gels, ' This poor simple wretch doth hanker after me, as 
 if I had nothing to do with my mercy but to bestow it on 
 such as he. Alas, poor soul ! how art thou deceived ! 
 It is not for such as thee to have favor with the Highest.' 
 
 Then hath the tempter come upon me, also, with such 
 discouragements as these : ' you are very hot for mercy, 
 but I will cool you ; this frame shall not last always ; 
 many have been as hot as you for awhile, but 1 have 
 quenched then- zeal; and with this, such, and such, who 
 were fallen off, would be set before mine eyes. Then I 
 would be afraid that I should do so too. ' But,' thought 
 I, ' [ am glad this comes into my mind ; well, I will 
 watch and take what care I can,' ' Though 3^ou do,' 
 said Satan, ' I shall be too hard for you ; I will cool you 
 insensibly, by degrees, by little and little.' 
 
 'What care I,' sailh he, 'though I be seven years in 
 chilling your heart, if I can do it at last? continued 
 rocking will lull a crying child asleep: I v; ill ply it close, 
 but I will have my end accomiplished. Though you be 
 burning hot at present, I can pull you from this fire, I 
 shall have you cold before it be long.' 
 
 These things brought me into great straits ; for as I 
 at present could not find myself fit for present death, so 
 I thought to live long would make me yet more unfit ; 
 for time would make me forget all, and wear out even 
 the remembrance of the evil of sin, the worth of heaven, 
 and the need I had of the blood of Christ to wash me, 
 
52 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 both in mind and thought. But I thank Christ Jesus, 
 these things did not at present make me slack my cry'mg, 
 but rather did put me more upon it, like her who met 
 with the adulterer, Deut. xxii. 26, in which days that 
 was a good word to me, after I had suffered ihcse things 
 awhile : ' I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor 
 angels, nor principalities, nor pou-ers, nor things present, 
 nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other 
 creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, 
 which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' And now I hoped 
 long life would not destroy me, nor make me miss of 
 heaven. 
 
 I had, also, once a sweet glance from that text, ' For 
 he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, 
 that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.' 
 I remember that one day, as I was sitting in my neigh- 
 boi-'s house, and there was very sad at the consideration 
 of my man}^ blasphemies, and as I was sajing in my 
 mind, what ground have I to think that I, who have 
 been so vile and abominable, should ever inherit eternal 
 life? that word came suddenly upon me, ' What shall we 
 say to these things? if God be for us, who can be against 
 us ? ' That also was an help unto me, ' Because I live 
 ye shall live also.' But these words w^ere but hints, 
 touches, and short visits, though very sweet when pres- 
 ent; only they lasted not ; but like to Petei-'s sheet, of a 
 sudden were caught up from me, to heaven again. 
 
 But afterwards the Lord did more fuWy and graciously 
 discover himself unto me, and, indeed, did not onlj^ quite 
 deliver me from the guilt that by these things was laid 
 upon my conscience, but also from the very filth thereof; 
 for the temptation was removed, 1 was put into my right 
 mind again, as other Christians were. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN, 53 
 
 I remember one day, as I was travelling into the coun- 
 try and musing on the wickedness and blasphemy of my 
 heart, and considering the enmity that was in me to God, 
 that Scripture came into my mind, ' He hath made peace 
 by the blood of his cross ; ' by which I was made to see, 
 both again, and again, that God and my soul were friends 
 by his blood ; yea, I saw that the justice of God and my 
 sinful soul could embrace and kiss each other, through 
 his blood. This was a good day to me, I hope I shall 
 never forget it. 
 
 At another time, as I sat by the fire in my house, and 
 was musing in my wretchedness, the- Lord made that 
 also a precious word unto me ; ' Forasmuch then as the 
 children are made partakers of flesh and blood, he also 
 himself likewise took part of the same, that through 
 death he might destroy him that had the power of death, 
 that is the devil; and deliver them who through fear of 
 death, were all their life-time subject to bondage. I 
 thought that the glory of these words was then so 
 weighty on me, that I was both once and twice ready to 
 swoon as I sat; yet not with grief and trouble, but with 
 solid joy and peace. 
 
 At this time, also, I sat under the ministry of holy Mr. 
 Giiford, whose doctrine, by God's grace, was much for 
 my stability. This man made it much his business to 
 deliver the people of God from all those hard and unsound 
 tests, that by nature we are prone to. He would bid 
 us take special heed that we took not up any truth upon 
 trust, as from this, or that, or any other man, or men; 
 but cry mightily to God, that he would convince us of 
 the realit}'- thereof, and set us down therein by his own 
 spirit in the holy word ; ' for,' said he, ' if you do other- 
 wise, when temptations come strongly upon you, you not 
 6 
 
54 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 having received them with evidence from heaven, will 
 find you want that help and strength now to resist that 
 once you thought you had.' 
 
 This was as seasonable to my soul as the former and 
 latter rain in their season ; for I had found, and that by 
 sad experience, the truth of these his words ; for I had felt 
 no man can say, especially when tempted by the devil, 
 that 'Jesus Christ is Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.' 
 Wherefore I found my soul, through grace, very apt to 
 drink in this doctrine, and to incline to pray to God, that 
 in nothing that pertained to God's glory, and my own 
 eternal happiness he would suffer me to be without the 
 confirmation thereof from heaven : for now I saw clearly 
 there was an exceeding difierence betwixt the notion of 
 the flesh and blood, and the revelation of God in heaven : 
 also a great difference between that faith which is feign- 
 ed, and according to man's wisdom, and that which comes 
 by a man's being born thereto of God. ' Blessed art thou, 
 Simon Barjona : for flesh and blood hath not revealed 
 it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.' 
 
 But, oh ! now, how was my soul led from truth to 
 truth by God ! Even from the birth and cradle of the 
 Son of God, to his ascension, and second coming from 
 heaven to judge the world. 
 
 Truly, I then found, upon this account, the great God 
 was very good unto me ; for, to my remembrance, there 
 was not any thing that I then cried unto God to make 
 known and reveal unto me, but he was pleased to do it 
 for me. I mean, not one part of the gospel of the Lord 
 Jesus, but I was orderly led into it. I saw with great 
 clearness and distinctness, the wonderful works of God, 
 in giving Jesus Christ to save us, from his conception 
 and birth, even to his second coming to judgment : me- 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 55 
 
 thought I was as if I had seen him born, as if I had seen 
 him grow up ; as if I had seen him walk through this 
 world, from the cradle to the cross ; to which also, when 
 he came, I saw how gently he gave himself to be hanged, 
 and nailed on it for my sins and wicked doings. 
 
 When I have considered also the truth of .his resurrec- 
 tion, and have remembered that word, ' Touch me not, 
 Mar J,' &c. I have seen as if he had leaped out of the 
 grave's mouth, for joy that he was risen again, and had 
 got the conquest over our dreadful foes, saying, ' I ascend 
 unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and 
 your God.' I have also in the spirit seen him, on the 
 right hand of God the Father for me ; and have seen the 
 manner of his coming from heaven to judge the world 
 with glory, and have been confirmed in these things by 
 these Scriptures : ' And when he had spoken these things, 
 while they beheld, he was taken up, and a cloud received 
 him out of their sight.' — 'But he being full of the Holy 
 Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the 
 glory of God, and said. Behold, I see heaven opened, and 
 the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.' — 
 'And he commanded us to preach unto the people, and to 
 testify that it is he which was ordained of God to be the 
 judge of quick and dead.' — 'But this man, because he 
 continucth forever, hath an unchangeable priesthood.' — 
 • Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many, and to 
 them who look for him shall he appear the second time 
 without sin unto salvation.' — 'I am he that liveth, and 
 was dead, and behold I am alive forevermore, Amen: and 
 have the keys of hell and death.' — ' For the Lord him- 
 self shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the 
 voice of the archangel and the trump of God, and the 
 dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are aUve 
 
56 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 and remain shall be caught up together with the Lord, in 
 the air : and so shall we be ever with the Lord. Where- 
 fore comfort ye one another with these words.' 
 
 Once I was troubled to know whether the Lord Jesus 
 was man as well as God, and God as well as man ; and 
 truly in those days let men say what they would, unless 
 I had it with evidence from heaven all was nothing to 
 me ; I counted myself not set down in any truth of God. 
 Well, I was much troubled about this point, and could not 
 tell how to be resolved ; at last that came into my mind ; 
 ' And I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne, and of 
 the four beasts, and in the midst of the elders, stood a 
 Lamb as it had been slain.' Rev. v. 6. In the midst of the 
 throne, thought I, there is the Godhead ; in the midst of 
 the elders, there is his manhood. That other Scripture 
 also did help me much in this, ' To us a Child is born, to 
 us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon his 
 shoulders : and his name shall be called Wonderful 
 Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the 
 Prince of Peace,' &c. Isa. ix. 6. 
 
 It would be too long here to stay, to tell you in par- 
 ticular, how God did set me down in all the things of 
 Christ, and how he did, that he might do so, lead me into 
 his words ; 3^ea and how he did open them unto me, and 
 make them shine before me and cause them to dwell with 
 me, talk with me, and comfort me over and over, both of 
 his own being, and the being of his Son, and Spirit, and 
 word, and gospel. 
 
 Only this, as I said before. Twill say unto you again, 
 that in general, he was pleased to take this course with 
 me- first to suffer me to be afflicted with temptations con- 
 cerning them, and then reveal them unto me; as some- 
 times I should lie under great guilt for sin, even crushed 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 57 
 
 to the ground therewith ; and then the Lord would show 
 me the death of Christ, yea, so sprinkle my conscience 
 with his blood, that I should find, and that before I was 
 aware, that in that conscience, where but just now did 
 reign and rage the law, even there w^ould rest and abide 
 the peace and love of God, through Christ. 
 
 Now I had an evidence, as I thought, of my salva- 
 tion, from heaven, with many golden seals thereon, all 
 hanging in my sight. Now could I remember this mani- 
 festation, and the other discovery of grace, with comfort ; 
 and would often long and desire that the last day were 
 come, that I might be forever inflamed with the sight, 
 and py, and communion with Him, whose head was 
 crowned with thorns, whose face was spit upon, and body 
 broken, and soul made an offering for my sins : for where- 
 as before, I lay continually trembling at the mouth of 
 hell, now methought I was got so far therefrom, that 
 when I looked back, I could scarce discern it ! And O! 
 thought I, that I were fourscore years old now, that I 
 might die quickly, that my S9UI might be gone to rest. 
 
 But before I had got thus far out of these my tempta- 
 tions, I did greatly long to see some ancient man's expe- 
 rience, who had writ some hundreds of years before I 
 was born ; for those who had writ in our days, 1 thought, 
 but I desire them now to pardon me, that they had writ 
 only that which others felt; or else had, through the 
 strength of their wits and parts, studied to answer such 
 objections as they perceived others were perplexed with, 
 withoutgoing down themselves into the deep. Well, after 
 many such longings in my mind, the God^ in whose 
 hands are all our daj^s, did cast into my hand, one day, a 
 book of Martin Luther's; it was his comment on the 
 Galatians; it was also so old, that it was ready to fall 
 *6 
 
58 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 peice from peice if I did but turn in over. Now I was 
 pleased much that such an old book had fallen into my 
 hands, the which when I had but a little way perused, I 
 found my condition in his experience, so largely and pro- 
 foundly handled, as if his book had been written out of 
 my heart. This made me marvel: for thus thought I — 
 ' This man could not know anything of the state of 
 Christians now, but must needs write and speak the ex- 
 perience of former days. 
 
 Besides, he doth most gravel3% also, in that book, debate 
 of the rise of these temptations, namely, blasphemy, des- 
 paration, and the like, showing that the law of Moses, as 
 well as the devil, death, and hell, hath a very great hand 
 therein ; the which, at first, was very strange to me: but 
 considering and watching, I found it so indeed. But of 
 particulars here I intend nothing ; only this methinks I 
 must let fall before all men, I do prefer this book of Mar- 
 tin Luther upon the Galatians, excepting the Holy Bible, 
 before all the books that ever I have seen, as most fit for a 
 wounded conscience. 
 
 And now I found, as I thought, that I loved Christ 
 dearl}^: oh, methought my soul cleaved unto him, my af- 
 fections cleaved unto him: but I did quickly find, that 
 my great love was but too little; and that I, who had, as 
 I thought, such burning love to Christ, could let him go 
 again for a very trifle : God can tell how to abase us, and 
 can hide pride from man. duickly after this my love 
 was tried to purpose. 
 
 For after the Lord had, in this manner, thus graciously 
 delivered me from this great and sore temptation, and had 
 set me down so sweetly in the faith of his holy gospel, 
 and had given me such strong consolation and blessed ev- 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 59 
 
 idence, touching my interest in his love, through Christ, 
 the tempter came upon me again." 
 
 Banyan then proceeds to relate his various temptations, 
 and the exercises of his mind : some of these arose from 
 his mistake as to some passages of Scripture; but other 
 texts were applied by the Spirit of God, so as to guide his 
 mind aiight; and, by the painful process through which 
 he was brought, he was peculiarly qualified to succor the 
 tempted, and to console the afilicted. For example he 
 says: 
 
 "I was tempted to sell and part with this most blessed 
 Christ, to exchange him for the things of this life, for any 
 thing. The temptation lay upon me for the space of a 
 year, and d:d follow me so continually, that I was not rid 
 of it one day in the month : no, not sometimes one hour 
 in many months together, unless when I was asleep. Yet 
 it was a continual vexation to me, to think that I should 
 have so much as one thought within me against Jesus, 
 that had done for me as he had done ; and yet that I had 
 almost none others, but such blasphemous ones. But it 
 was neither my dislike of the thought, nor yet my desire 
 and endeavor to resist, that did in the least shake or abate 
 the continuation or force and strength thereof; for it did 
 always, in almost whatever I thought, intermix itself 
 therewith, in such sort, that I could neither eat my food, 
 stoop for a pin, chop a stick, or cast mine ej'e to look on 
 this or that but still the temptation would come, ' Sell 
 Christ for this, or sell Christ for that; sell him, sell him.' 
 
 One morning, as I did lie in ray bed, I was, as at other 
 times, most fiercely assaulted with this temptation, ' To 
 sell and part with Christ ; ' the wicked suggestion still 
 running in my mind, ' Sell him, sell him,' as fast as man 
 
60 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 could speak ; against which also, in my mind, as at other 
 times, I answered, ' No, no, not for thousands, thousands, 
 thousands,' at least twenty times together: but at last, 
 after much striving, even until I was most out of breath, I 
 felt this thought pass through my heart, ' Let him go, if he 
 will ; ' and I thought also that 1 felt my heart freely con- 
 sent thereto. Oh the diligence of Satan ! Oh the des- 
 perateness of man's heart! 
 
 Now was the battle won, and down fell I, as a bird that 
 is shot from the top of a tree, into great guilt, and fearful 
 despair. Thus, getting out of my bed, 1 w^ent into the 
 field; but God knows, with as heavy a heart as mortal 
 man, I think, could bear: when, for the space of two 
 hours, I was like a man bereft of life : and, as now, past 
 all recovery, and bound over to eternal punishment. 
 
 And withal, that Scripture did seize upon my soul : 
 • Or profane person, as Esau, who, for one morsel of meat, 
 sold his birthright : for ye know, how that afterwards, 
 when he would have inherited the blessing, he was reject- 
 ed, for he found no place of repentance, though he sought 
 it carefully w^ith tears.' Heb. xii. 16, 17. Now was I as 
 one bound, I felt myself sliut up as unto the judgment to 
 come ; nothing now, for two years together, would abide 
 with me but damnation and an expectation of damnation; 
 I say nothing now would abide with me but this, save some 
 few moments for relief, as in the sequel you will see. 
 
 These words were to my soul, like fetters of brass to 
 my legs, in the continual sound of which I went for sev- 
 eral months together. But about ten or eleven o'clock 
 one day, as I was walking under a hedge, full of sorrow 
 and guilt, God knows, and bemoaning myself for this 
 hard hap, that such a thought should arise within me, 
 suddenly this sentence rushed in upon me, ' The blood of 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 61 
 
 Christ remits all guilt.' At this 1 made a stand in my 
 spirit : with that this word took hold upon me, ' The 
 blood of Jesus Christ, his son, cleanseth us from all sin,' 
 1 John i. 7. Now I began to conceive peace in my soul, 
 and methought 1 saw, as if the tempter did steal away 
 from me, as being ashamed of what he had done. At 
 the same time also I had my sin and the blood of Christ 
 thus represented to me, that my sin when compared to 
 the blood of Christ, was no more to it, than this little 
 clod or stone before me, is to this vast and wide field that 
 here 1 see. This gave me good encouragement for the 
 space of two or three hours; in which time, also, me- 
 thought, I saw, by faith, the Son of God, as suffering for 
 my sins : but because it tarried not, 1 therefore sunk in 
 my spirit, under exceeding guilt again. 
 
 Then, again, being loth and unwilling to perish, I be- 
 gan to compare my sm with others, to see if I could find 
 that any of those who were saved, had done as 1 had 
 done. So I considered David's adultery and murder, and 
 Peter's sin, which he committed in denying his Master. 
 Oh! how did my soul prize at this time the preservation 
 that God did set about his people ! Ah, how safely did I 
 see them walk, whom God had hedged in ! They were 
 within his care, protection, and special providence. 
 Though they were full as bad as I by nature, yet because 
 •he loved them, he would not suffer them to fall without 
 the range of mercy : but as for me, I was gone, I had 
 done it : he would not present me, nor keep me ; but suf- 
 fered me, because 1 was a reprobate, to fall as I had done. 
 Now did those blessed places that speak of God's keep- 
 ing his people, shine like the sun before me, though not 
 to comfort me, yet to show me the blessed state and herit- 
 asre of those whom the Lord had blessed. 
 
62 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 Now I saw, that as God had his hand in all the provi- 
 dences and dispensatiins that overtook his elect; so he had 
 his hand in all the temptations that they had to sin against 
 him ; not to animate them to wickedness, but to choose 
 their temptations and troubles for them; and also to leave- 
 them for a time, to such things only that might not de- 
 stroy, but humble them; as might not put them beyond, 
 but lay them in the way of the renewing his mercy. But 
 ohl what love, what care, what kindness and mercy did 
 I now see mixing itself with the most severe and dread- 
 ful of all God's ways to his people ! He would let David, 
 Hezekiah, Solomon, Peter, and others fall, but he would 
 not let them fall into the sin unpardonable, nor into hell 
 for sin. O! thought 1, these be men that God hath lov- 
 ed; these be the men that God, though he chastiseth 
 them, keeps them in safety by him ; and them whom he 
 makes to abide under the shadow of the Almighty. But 
 all these thoughts added sorrow, grief, and horror to me, 
 as whatever I now thought on, it was killing to me. If 
 I thought how God kept his own, that was killing to me ; 
 if I thought how I was fallen myself, that was kiUing to 
 me. As all things wrought together for the best, and to 
 do good to them that were called, according to his pur- 
 pose, so I thought that all things wrought for damage, 
 and for m}^ eternal overthrow. 
 
 Then, agam, 1 began to compare my sin with the sin 
 of Judas, that, if possible, I might find if mine differed 
 from that, which in truth is unpardonable : and oh ! 
 thought I, if it should differ from it, though but the 
 breadth of an hair, what a happy condition is my soul in ! 
 And, by considering, I found that Judas did this inten- 
 tionally, but mine was against prayer and strivings; be- 
 sides, his was committed with much deliberation, but 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 63 
 
 mine in a fearful hurry, on a sudden ; all this while I was 
 tossed to and fro like the locust, and driven from trouble to 
 sorrow; hearing always the sound of Esau's fall in my 
 ears, and the dreadful consequences thereof 
 
 I was often now ashamed that I sliould be like such 
 an ugly man as Judas : I thought, also, how loathsome I 
 should be unto all the saints in the day of judgment : in- 
 somuch that now I could scarce see a good man, that I 
 believed had a good conscience, but 1 should feel my 
 heart tremble at him, while I was in his presence. Oh! 
 now I saw a glory in walking with God, and what a 
 mercy it was to have a good conscience before him. 
 
 I was at this time tempted to content myself by receiv- 
 ing some false opinions ; as, that there should be no such 
 thing as a day of judgment ; that we should not rise again ; 
 and that sin was no such grievous thing : the tempter 
 suggesting thus : ' For if these things should indeed be 
 true, yet to believe otherwise would yield you ease for the 
 present. If j^ou must perish, never torment yourself so 
 much beforehand : drive the thoughts of damning out of 
 your mind by possessing your mind with some such con- 
 clusions that atheists and unbelievers use to help them- 
 selves withal.' 
 
 But, oh ! when such thoughts have passed through my 
 heart, how, as it were, within a step, have death and 
 judgment been in my view ! Methought the Judge stood 
 at the door ; I was as if it had come already ; so that such 
 things could have no entertainment. But, methinks I 
 see by this, that Satan will use any means to keep the 
 soul from Christ ; he loveth not an awakened frame of 
 spirit ; security, blindness, darkness and error, is the very 
 kingdom and habitation of the wicked one. 
 
 I found it hard work now to pray to God, because des- 
 
64 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 pair was swallowing me up. I ibought I was, as with a 
 tempest, driven away from God ; for always, when 1 cried 
 to God for mercy, this would come in, ' It is too late, I am 
 lost, God hath let me fall : not to my correction, but to 
 my condemnation : my sin is unpardonable ; I know con- 
 cerning Esau, how, that after he had sold his birth-right, 
 he would have inherited the blessing, but was rejected,' 
 
 That saying would sometimes come into my mind, 
 ' He hath received gifts for the rebellious.' The rebell- 
 ious ! thought I : why, surely, ti.ey are such as were un- 
 der snbji^ction to their prince: even those who, after they 
 have once sworn subjection to his govern njent, have taken 
 up arms against him; and this, thought I, is my very 
 condition, I once loved him, feared him, served him ; but 
 now 1 am a rebel : I have sold him, I have said, let him 
 go if he will ; but yet he has gifts for rebels; and then 
 wh^' not for me ? 
 
 This sometimes I thought on, and would labor to take 
 hold thereof, that some, though small refreshment, might 
 have been conceived by me; but in this also I missed of 
 m}^ desire. I was driven with force beyond it ; I was 
 like a man going to execution, even by that place where 
 he would fain creep in and hide himself, but may not. 
 
 After I had considered the sins of the saints in particu- 
 lar, and found mine went be^^ond them, then 1 began to 
 think with m3^self: set the case, I should put all theirs to- 
 gether, and mine alone against them, might I not then 
 find encouragement ? for if mine, though bigger than 
 any one, yet should be but equal to a'l, then there is hope; 
 for that blood that hath virtue enough in it to wash away 
 all theirs, hath virtue enough in it to wash away mine, 
 though this one be as big if not bi<jger thnn all theirs. 
 
 The tempter strongly suggested to me, that I ought not 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 65 
 
 to pray to God, for prayer was not for any in my case ; 
 neither could it do me good, because I had rejected the 
 Mediator, by whom all prayer came with acceptance to 
 God the Father, and without whom no prayer could come 
 into his presence ; wherefore now to pray, seeing God has 
 cast you off, is the next way to anger and offend him 
 more than ever you did before. 
 
 Yet my case being desperate, I thought with myself, I 
 can but die; and if it must be so, it shall once be said, 
 • That such an one died at the foot of Christ in prayer.' 
 This I did, but with great difficulty, God doth know ; 
 and that because, together with this, still that saying 
 about Esau would be set at my heart, even like a flaming 
 sword, to keep the way of the tree of life, lest I should 
 take thereof and live. Oh ! who knows how hard athino- 
 
 o 
 
 I found it to come to God in praj^er! 
 
 I did also desire the prayer of the people of God for me, 
 but I feared that God would give them no heart to do it; 
 yea, I trembled in my soul to think, that some or other of 
 them would shortly tell me, that God hath said those 
 words to them, that he once did say to the prophet con- 
 cerning the children of Israel, ' Fray not for this people, 
 for I have rejected them.' So, ' Pray not for him, for I 
 have rejected him.' Yea, I thought he had whispered 
 this to some of them already, only they durst not tell me 
 so; neither durst I ask them of it, for fear if it should be 
 so, it would make me quite beside mj^self : ' Man knows 
 the beginning of sin,' says Spira, ' but who bounds the is- 
 sues thereof?' 
 
 About this time I took an opportunity to break my 
 
 mind to an ancient Christian, and told him all my case. 
 
 I told him, also, that I was afraid that I had sinned the 
 
 sin against the Holy Ghost, and he told me he thought so 
 
 7 
 
66 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 too. Here, therefore, I had but cold comfort ; but talking 
 a little more with him, I found him, though a good man, 
 a stranger to much combat with the devil. Therefore, I 
 went to God again, as well as I could, for mercy still. 
 
 Then did that Scripture seize upon my soul, ' He is of one 
 mind and who can turn him ! ' Oh ! I saw it was as easy 
 to persaude him to make a new world, a new covenant, or a 
 new Bible, besides that we have already, as to pray for such 
 a thing. This was to persuade him that what he had done 
 already, was mere folly, and persuade him to alter, yea, 
 to disannul the whole way of salvation. And then would 
 that saying rend my soul asunder, ' Neither is there sal- 
 vation in any other, for there is none other name under 
 heaven, given among men wlierebj'- we must be saved.' 
 
 Now the most free, and full, and gracious words of the 
 gospel were the greatest torment tome; ea, nothing so 
 afflicted me, as the thought of Jesus Christ, the remem- 
 brance of a S"avior ; because I had cast him off, brought 
 forth the villany of my sin, and my loss by it to mind ; 
 nothing did twinge my conscience like this ; every thing 
 that I thought of the Lord Jesus, of his grace, love, good- 
 ness, kindness, gentleness, meekness, death, blood, prom- 
 ises, and blessed exhortations, comforts and consolations, 
 it went to my soul like a sword ; for still unto the&e my 
 considerations of the Lord Jesus, these thoughts would 
 make place for themselves in my heart : ' A}', this is the 
 Lord Jesus, the loving Savior, the Son of God, whom 
 you have parted with, whom you have slighted, despised, 
 and abused. This is the only Savior, the only Re- 
 deemer, the only one that could so love sinners as to wash 
 them from their sins in his own most precious blood ; but 
 you have no part nor lot in this Jesus ; you have put him 
 from you. Now, therefore, you are severed from him ; 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 67 
 
 you have severed yourself from him. Behold, then, his 
 goodness, but yourself to be no partaker of it.' Oh ! 
 thought I, what have I lost ! what have I parted with ! 
 what has disinherited my poor soul ! Oh ! it is sad to be 
 destroyed by the grace and mercy of God ! to have the 
 Lamb, the Savior turn lion and destroj^er! I could not 
 think of the wrath of the Lamb, in that great day of his 
 wrath when no rebels to his authority will be able to 
 stand. I also trembled, as 1 have said, at the sight of the 
 saints of God, especially at those that greatly loved him, 
 and that made it their business to walk continually with 
 him in this world, for they did, both in their words, their 
 carriages, and all their expressions of tenderness, and fear 
 to sin against their precious Savior, condemn, and lay 
 guilt upon, and also add continual afQiction and shame 
 unto my soul. The dread of them was upon me, and 1 
 trembled at God's Samuel's : ' And Samuel came to Beth- 
 lehem, and the elders of the town trembled at his coming, 
 and said, comest thou peaceably V 
 
 Thus I was alwaj's sinking, whatever I did think or 
 do. So one day I walked to a neighboring town, and sat 
 down upon a settle in the street, and fell into a very deep 
 pause about the most fearful state my sin had brought me 
 to; and, after long musing, I lifted up my head, but me- 
 thought I saw as if the sun that shineth in the heavens 
 did grudge to give light ; and as if the very stones in the 
 street, and tiles upon the houses, did bend themselves 
 against me. Methought that they all combined together 
 to banish me out of the world. I was abhorred of them, 
 and unfit to dwell among them, or to be partaker of their 
 benefits, because I had sinned against the Savior, Oh 
 how happy now was every creature, to what I was ! for 
 they stood fast and kept their station, but I was gone and 
 lost. 
 
68 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 Then breaking out in the bitterness of my soul, I said 
 to my soul with a grievous sigh, ' How can God comfort 
 such a wretch 1 ' I had no sooner said it, but this return- 
 ed upon me, as an echo doth answer a voice, ' This sin is 
 not unto death.' At which I was as if I had been raised 
 out of the grave, and cried out again, ' Lord, how couldst 
 thou find out such a word as this!' for I was filled with 
 admiration at the fitness and the unexpectedness of the 
 sentence; the fitness of the word, the rightness of the 
 timing of it; the powder, and sweetness, and light, and 
 glory that came with it, also, were marvellous to me to 
 find. I was now, for the time, out of doubt as to that 
 about which I was so much in doubt before : my fears be- 
 fore were that ray sins were not pardonable, and so that 
 I had no right to pray, to repent, &c. or that if I did it 
 would be of no advantage or profit to me. But now, 
 thought I, if this sin is not unto death, then it is pardon- 
 able; therefore, from this I have encouragement to come 
 to God by Christ for mercy, to consider the promise of for- 
 giveness, as that which stands with open arms to receive 
 me as well as others. This, therefore, was a great ease- 
 ment to my mind, to wit, that my sin was pardonable, 
 that it was not the sin unto death. ' If any man see his 
 brother in a sin which is not unto death, he shall ask, 
 and he shall give him life for them that sin not unto death. 
 There is a sin unto death. 1 do not say that ye shall 
 pray for it. All unrighteousness is sin ; and there is a sin 
 not unto death.' None but those that know what my 
 trouble, by their own experience, was, can tell what 
 relief came to my soul by this consideration. It was a 
 release to me from my former bonds, and a shelter from 
 my former storm?. I seemed now to stand upon the same 
 ground with other sinners, and to have as good right to 
 the word and prayer as any of them. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN, 69 
 
 The next day at evening, being under many fears, I 
 went to seek the Lord, and as I prayed, I cried, and my 
 soul cried to him in these words, with strong cries, * O 
 Lord, I beseech thee, show me that thou hast loved me 
 with everlasting love.' I had no sooner said it, but with 
 sweetness, this returned upon me as an echo, or sounding 
 again, ' I have loved thee with an everlasting love.' Now 
 I went to bed in quiet ; also when 1 awaked the next 
 morning it was fresh upon my soul, and I believed it. 
 
 As I was musing and in my studies, considering how 
 to love the Lord, and to express my love to him, that say- 
 ing come in upon me, ' If thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniqui- 
 ties, O Lord, who should stand? But there is forgiveness 
 with thee that thou may est be feared.' These were good 
 words to me, especially the latter part thereof; to wit, 
 that there is forgiveness with the Lord, that he might be 
 feared, that is, as I then understood it, that he might be 
 beloved, and had in reverence ; for it was thus made out 
 to me, That the great God did set so high an esteem upon 
 the love of his poor creatures, that rather than he would 
 go without their love, he would pardon their transgres- 
 sions. 
 
 That saying, * And he spake a parable to them, to this 
 end, that men ought always to pray and not to faint,' 
 with others, did encourage me to prayer. Then the 
 tempter laid at me very sore, suggesting, ' That neither 
 the mercy of God, nor yet the blood of Christ, did at all 
 concern me, nor could they help me for my sins; there- 
 fore it was in vain to pray.' Yet thought I, ' I will pray.' 
 * But,' said the tempter, ' your sin is unpardonable.' * Well,' 
 said I, ' I will pray.' ' It is to no boot,' said he. ' Yet,' 
 said I, • I will pray.' So I went to prayer to God ; and 
 
 while I was at prayer, I uttered words to this effect: 
 #7 
 
70 JOHN bunyan. 
 
 ' Lord, Satan tells me, that neither thy mercy nor Christ's 
 blood, is sufficient to save my soul : Lord, shall 1 honor 
 thee most, by believing that thou wilt, and canst? or him, 
 by believing that thou neither wilt nor canst? Lord, I 
 would fain honor thee, by believing thou wilt and canst.' 
 And as I was thus before the Lord, that Scripture fas- 
 tened on my heart, * O man, great is thy faith,' Matt. xv. 
 28 : yet I was not able to believe this, that this was a 
 praj-er of faith, till almost six months after ; for I could 
 not think that I had faith, or that there should be a word 
 for me, to act faith ; therefore I should still be, as in the 
 jaws of desperation, and went mourning up and down in 
 a sad condition. 
 
 One day, when I was in a meeting of God's people, full 
 of sadness and terror, for my fears again were strong upon 
 me, and as I was now thinking my soul was never the 
 better, but my case most sad and fearful, these words did 
 with great power suddenly break in upon me, ' My grace 
 is sufficient for thee, my grace is sufficient for thee, my 
 grace is sufficient for thee,' three times together. And 
 oh! methought that every word was a mighty word unto 
 me ; as ' my' and ' grace' and ' sufficient' and ' for thee;' 
 they w^ere then, and sometimes are still, far bigger than 
 others be. 
 
 That Scripture most sweetly visited my soul; 'And 
 him that cometh to me 1 will in no v/ise cast out.' Oh, 
 the comfort that I had from this word, ' in no wise ! ' As 
 who should say, ' By no means, for nothing whatever he 
 hath done.' But Satan would greatly labor to pull this 
 promise froa^ me, telling me that Christ did not mean me 
 and such as I, but sinners of a lower rank that had not 
 done as I had done.' But 1 would answer him again, 
 Satan, here is in these words no such exception ; but him 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 71 
 
 that comes, — him — any him : ' Him that cometh to me 
 I will in no wise cast out.' And this I well remember 
 still, that of all the sleights that Satan used to take this 
 Scripture from me, yet he never did so much as put this 
 question, 'But do you come aright?' And I have 
 thought that the reason was, because he thought I knew 
 full well what coming aright was, for I saw that to come 
 aright, was to come as I was, a vile and ungodly sinner, 
 and to cast myself at the feet of mercy, condemning my- 
 self for sin. If ever Satan and I did strive for any word of 
 God in all my life, it was for this good word of Christ ; he 
 at one end and I at the other. Oh, what work we made ! 
 It was ior this in John, I say, that we did so tug and 
 strive, he pulled and 1 pulled, but God be praised, I over- 
 came him ; I got sweetness from it. 
 
 One, day as I was passing into the field, and that too 
 with some dashes of my conscience, fearing lest all was 
 not right yet, suddenly this sentence fell upon my soul, 
 ' Thy righteousness is in heaven ; ' and methought withal, 
 I saw with the eyes of my soul, Jesus Christ at God's 
 right hand ; there, I say, was my righteousness ; so that 
 wherever I was, or whatever I was doing, God could not 
 say of me, 'He wants my righteousness;' for that was 
 just before him. I also saw, moreover, that it was not 
 my good frame of heart that made my righteousness bet- 
 ter, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness 
 worse ; for my righteousness was Jesus Christ himself, 
 ' The same yesterday, to-day, and forever.' 
 
 Now did my chains fall off rny legs indeed ; I was 
 loosed from my afflictions, and irons ; my temptations 
 also fled away; so that from that time those dreadful 
 Scriptures of God left off to trouble me ; now went I also 
 home rejoicing, for the grace and love of God ; so when 
 
72 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 I came home, I looked to see if I could find that sen- 
 tence; ' Thy righteousness is in heaven,' but could not 
 find such a saying; wherefore my heart began to sink 
 again, only that was brought to my remembrance, ' He is 
 made unto us of God, wisdom, righteousness, sanctifica- 
 tion, and redemption.' 1 Cor. i. 33. By this word I saw 
 the other sentence true. 
 
 For by this Scripture I saw that the man Christ Jesus, 
 as he is distinct from us, as touching his bodily presence, 
 so he is our righteousness and sanctification before God ; 
 here, therefore, I lived, for sometime, very sweetly at peace 
 with God through Christ ; oh ! methought, Christ ! 
 Christ ! there was nothing but Christ before my eyes. 
 I was not now only for looking upon this and the other 
 benefits of Christ apart, as of his blood, burial, or resurrec- 
 tion, but considering him as a whole; as he in whom all 
 these, and all other his virtues, relations, offices, and ope- 
 rations met together, and that he sat on the right hand of 
 God in heaven. 
 
 It was glorious to me to see his exaltation, and the 
 worth and prevalency of all his benefits, and that because 
 now I could look from mj^self to him, and would reckon 
 that all those graces of God that now were green on me, 
 were yet but like those wretched groats and fourpence- 
 halfpennies that rich men carry in their purses, when 
 their gold is in their trunk at home. Oh ! I saw my gold 
 was in my trunk at home ! In Christ my Lord and Sa- 
 vior. Now Christ was all ; all my righteousness, all 
 my sanctification, and all my redemption. 
 
 Further, the Lord did also lead me into the mystery of 
 union with the Son of God ; that I was joined to him, 
 • that I was flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone.' And 
 now was that word of St. Paul sweet to me. By this 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 73 
 
 also was my faith in him, as my righteousness, the more 
 confirmed in me ; for if he and I were one, then his right- 
 eousness was mine, his merits mine, his victory also 
 mine. Now could I see myself in heaven and earth at 
 once: in heaven by my Christ, by my head, by right- 
 eouusness and life, though on earth by my body or 
 person. 
 
 Now I saw Christ Jesus was looked upon of God, and 
 should also be looked upon by us, as that common or pub- 
 lic person, in whom all the whole body of his elect are al- 
 ways to be considered and reckoned ; that we fulfilled 
 the law by him, died by him, rose from the dead by him, 
 got the victory over sin, death, the devil, and hell by him ; 
 when he died we died, and so of his resurrection. ' Thy 
 dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall 
 they arise,' saith he. And again, ' After two days he 
 will revive us, and the third day we shall live in his sight.' 
 Which is now fulfilled by the sitting down of the Son of 
 man on the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens, ac- 
 cording to that of the Ephesians, ' He hath raised us up 
 together and made us sit together in heavenly places in 
 Christ Jesus.' 
 
 Ah! these blessed considerations and Scriptures, with 
 many others of like nature, were in those days made to 
 spangle in mine eyes, so that 1 have cause to say, * Praise 
 ye the Lord God in his sanctuary ; praise him in the fir- 
 mament of his power ; praise him for his mighty acts ; 
 praise him according to his excellent greatness.' 
 
 Having thus in a few words given you a taste of the 
 sorrow and aflfiiction that my soul went under, by the 
 guilt and terror that these my wicked thoughts did lay 
 me under; and having given you also a touch of my de- 
 liverance therefrom, and the sweet and blessed comfort 
 
74 JOHN EUNYAN. 
 
 that I met with afterwards, which comfort dwelt about a 
 twelvemonth with my heart, to my unspeakable admira- 
 tion ; I will now, God willing, before I proceed any far- 
 ther, give you in a word or two, what, as I conceive, was 
 the cause of this temptation ; and also after that, what 
 advantage, at the last, it became unto my soul. 
 
 For the causes, I conceive they were principally two ; 
 of which two also I was deeply convinced all the time 
 this trouble lay upon me. The first was, for that I did 
 not, when j was delivered from the temptation that went 
 before, still pray to God to keep me from the temptations 
 that were to come : for though, as I can say in truth, my 
 soul was much in prayer before this trial seized me, yet 
 then [ pra3^ed only, or at the most, principally, for the re- 
 moval of present troubles, and for fresh discoveries of his 
 love in Christ, which I saw afterwards was not enough 
 to do; I also should have prayed that the great God 
 would keep me from the evil that was to come. 
 
 Of this I was made deeply sensible by the prayer of 
 holy David, v/ho when he was under present mercy, yet 
 prayed that God would hold him back from sin and 
 temptation to come; ' For then' saith he, 'shall I be up- 
 right, and then I shall be innocent from the great trans- 
 gression.' 3y this very word was I galled and con- 
 demned quite through this long temptation. 
 
 That was also another word that did much condemn 
 me for my folly, in the neglect of this duty: 'Let us 
 therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we 
 may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.' 
 Heb. iv. 16. This I had not done, and therefore was thus 
 suffered to sin and fall, according to what is written, 
 ' Pray that ye enter not into temptation : ' and truly this 
 very thing is to this day of such weight and awe upon 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 75 
 
 me, that I dare not, when I come before the Lord, go off 
 my knees, until I entreat him for help and mercy against 
 the temptations that are to come; and I do beseech thee, 
 reader, that thou learn to beware of my negligence, by 
 the afflictions that for this thing, 1 did for days, and 
 months and years, with sorrow undergo. 
 
 And now, to show you something of the advantages 
 that [ also have gained by this temptation: and first, by 
 this I was made continually to possess in my soul a very 
 wonderful sense both of the blessing and glory of God, 
 and of his beloved Son, In the temptation that went be- 
 fore, my soul was perplexed with unbelief, blasphemy and 
 hardness of heart, questions about the being of God, 
 Christ, and the truth of the word, and certainty of the 
 world to come: I say then I was greatly assaulted and 
 tormented with atheism. But now the case was other- 
 wise; now was God and Christ continually before my 
 face, though not in a way of comfort, but in a way of 
 exceeding dread and terror. The glory of the holiness 
 of God, did at this time break me to pieces ; and the ten- 
 derness and compassion of Christ did break me as on a 
 wheel ; for I could not consider him but as a lost and re- 
 jected Christ, the remembrance of which was the contin- 
 ual breaking of my bones. 
 
 The Scriptures also were wonderful things unto me; I 
 saw that the truth and verity of them were the keys of 
 the kingdom of heaven ; those that the Scriptures favor, 
 they must inherit bliss : but those that they oppose and 
 condemn, must perish forevermore; oh! this word, 'For 
 the Scriptures cannot be broken,' would rend the caul of 
 my heart ; and so would that other, 'Whose sins 3^e remit, 
 they are remitted ; but whose sins ye retain, they are re- 
 tained.' Now I saw the apostles to be the elders of the 
 
76 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 city of refuge.' Joshua xx. 4. Those that they were to 
 receive in, were received to life; but those that they shut 
 out, were to be slain by the avenger of blood. 
 
 By this temptation I was made to see more into the 
 nature of the promises than ever I had before : for I, ly- 
 ing now trembling under the mighty hand of God, con- 
 tinually torn and rent by the thundering of his justice, 
 this made me with careful heart, and watchful eye, with 
 great fearfulness to turn over every leaf, and with much 
 diligence, mixed with trembling, to consider every sen- 
 tence, together with its natural force and latitude. 
 
 By this temptation also I was greatly holden off from 
 my former foolish practice of putting by the word of prom- 
 ise when it came into my mind ; for now, though 1 could 
 not seek tha comfort and sweetness from the premise as I 
 had done at other times, yet like to a man sinking, I 
 would catch at all I saw. Formerly I thought I might 
 not meddle with the promise, unless I felt its comfort; but 
 now it was no time thus to do : the avenger of blood too 
 hard by did pursue me. 
 
 Now therefore was I glad to catch at that word, which 
 yet I feared I had no ground or right to own : and even to 
 leap into the bosom of that promise that yei I feared did 
 shut his heart against me. Now also 1 would labor to 
 take the word, as God hath laid it down, without restrain- 
 ing the natural force of one syllable thereof: oh, what 
 did I see in that blessed sixth chapter of St. John : 'i^nd 
 him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.' Now 
 I began to consider with myself that God had a bigger 
 mouth to speak with than I had a heart to conceive with: 
 I thought also with myself, that he spake not his words in 
 haste, or in an unadvised heat, but with infinite wisdom 
 and judgment, and in very truth and faithfulness. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 77' 
 
 I would in these days, even in my greatest agonies often 
 flounder towards the promise, as the horses do towards 
 sound ground, that yet stick in the mire, concluding, 
 though as one bereft of his wits through fear, on this will 
 I rest and stay, and leave the fulfilling of it to the God 
 of heaven that made it. Oh ! many a pull hath my heart 
 had with Satan, for that blessed sixth chapter of John : I 
 did not now, as at other times, look principally for com- 
 fort, though, oh how welcome would it have been unto 
 me ! But now a word, a word to lean my weary soul 
 upon, that it might not sink forever ! it was that 1 hunted 
 for. 
 
 Yea, often when I have been making to the promise, I 
 have seen as if the Lord would refuse my soul forever ; I 
 was often as if I had run upon the pikes, and as if the 
 Lord had thrust at me, to keep me from him, as with a 
 flaming sword. Then would I think of Esther, who 
 went to petition to the king, contrary to the lav/, ' So 
 will I go in unto the king, which is not according to law, 
 and if I perish, I perish.' Esther iv. 16. I thought also 
 of Benhadad's servants, who went with ropes on their 
 heads to their enemies for mercy. The woman of Ca- 
 naan, also, that would not be daunted, though called dog 
 by Christ ; and the man that w^ent to borrow bread at 
 midnight, were also great encouragements to me. 
 
 I never saw those heights and depths in grace, and 
 love and mercy as I saw after this temptation ; great sins 
 to draw out great grace; and where guilt is most terrible 
 and fierce, there the mercy of God in Christ, v/hen show- 
 ed to the soul, appears most high and mighty, \\hen 
 Job had passed through his captivity, ' he had twice as 
 much as he had before.' Blessed be God for Jesus Christ 
 our Lord. Many other things I might here make obser- 
 8 
 
78 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 vation of, but I would here be brief, and therefore shall at 
 this time omit them; and do pray God that my harms 
 may make others fear to offend, lest they also be made to 
 bear the iron yoke as I did." 
 
 We may here remark upon these records of Bunyan's 
 experience, that God works in different ways in bringing 
 souls home to himself. The conversion of John Eunyan, 
 or any other eminent saint, must never be regarded as the 
 model to which all must, in this particular, be conformed. 
 Some are drawn by the still voice of mercy, and others 
 are driven by the terrors of the Lord from sin to holiness. 
 But no terrors, no texts powerfully impressed on the 
 mind, nor any extraordinary intimation of the spirit, can 
 be substituted for a change of the heart ; nor should they 
 be regarded as any proof of such a change, if sin be not 
 hated, and forsaken, and Christ and holiness be not su- 
 premely loved. Genuine repentance for sin, constant 
 faith in Christ, and obedience to his laws, are the best evi- 
 dences of being converted to God. 
 
 Bunyan's mind was at length happily freed from its 
 embarrassments, and he enjoyed much pleasure in the 
 ways of God. He speaks of possessing in his soul de- 
 lightful views of the glory of God, and the excellencies 
 of Christ. God reconciled in Christ Jesus was continu- 
 ally before his face. The Scriptures appeared to him a 
 very wonderful book; on their truth he placed entire 
 confidence, and by their application to his mind he was 
 instructed in the way of life. Still there was great igno- 
 nance, frequently discovered of the true meaning of the 
 sacred volume; and hence there were many passages 
 grossly misapplied to himself: as comparing his case to 
 Esau's, when he was seeking pardon from God \\ho had 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 79 
 
 promised to forgive; but Esau only sought to alter his 
 father's purpose respecting his birthright, which was 
 irrevocably fixed. This it was, also, which led him to 
 make the doctrines of election an objection to his apply- 
 ing to Jesus Christ for salvation : as the gospel nowhere 
 directs sinners to scrutinize the secret purposes of God, 
 but exhorts them to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 promises that v^hosoever believes in him shall be saved 
 with an everlasting salvation. 
 
 Most gladly would we enrich the present compilation, 
 with further extracts from the life of this extraordinary 
 man ; but our limits forbid. Having seen him just ready 
 to perish in the ' city of destruction,' and witnessed his 
 flight from it, amid the scoffs and jeers of his wicked 
 companions — having followed him through the 'slough 
 of despond,' and over the wide and desolate plain, up to 
 the • wicket gate,' and thence to the cross where his bur- 
 den fell off from his back, we can only glance at his sub- 
 sequent progress, as he goes on through perils and 
 deliverances, towards the ' delectable mountains, and the 
 celestial city.' 
 
 In his twenty-fifth year, Bunyan became a member of 
 the Baptist church in Bedford, and three years after, in 
 1656, began to preach the everlasting gospel. He entered 
 into the work with all his heart and soul; and as might 
 have been expected, his labors were crowned with signal 
 success. Having struggled so long in the horrible pit 
 and the miry clay, himself, he knew better than most 
 ministers, how to address those who were in similar cir- 
 cumstances. Having been so often driven almost to despair 
 by various temptations, he was eminently qualified, in 
 humble imitation of his divine Master, to ' succor them 
 that were tempted.' 
 
80 ' JOHN BUNYAiV. 
 
 But it was not to be expected that the great adversary, 
 who had so terribly buffeted him both before and after his 
 conversion, would now permit him to proceed without 
 further molestation. The fires of persecution were about 
 to be rekindled, and it would have been next to miracu- 
 lous, if he had not been scorched by them. Soon after 
 the restoration of Charles II, the flame broke out, and 
 Bunyan was sent to prison, because he could not con- 
 scientiously conform to the arbitrary dictation of the 
 ecclesiastical courts. When they commanded him to 
 conform, or keep silence, all his answers were in the very 
 spirit of the apostles, ' Whether we ought to hearken unto 
 you, more than unto God, judge ye.' 
 
 It was about the first of Nov. 1G60, that he was co 
 mitted to Bedford jail, there to await his trial at t 
 quarter session in January. When the trial came on, he 
 was treated with great indignity and contempt by some 
 of the court, which he endured with the spirit of a 
 martyr. 
 
 He was finally condemned for ' upholding of unlawful 
 assemblies, conventicles,' &c. and remained in prison for 
 about twelve years. But it was impossible to fetter the 
 bold and inventive energies of his mind, or to quench his 
 holy zeal. Though his body was in confinement, ' the 
 word of God was not bound.' God sent him to prison 
 as he did Joseph into Egypt, to do more for the church 
 than he would have accomplished in any other way. 
 Till this event, he was so fully employed in the support 
 of his family, and in constant preaching, that it was im- 
 possible he could ever have written anything without a 
 change in his circumstances. But by these means, he 
 was effectually called away from mending pots and ket- 
 tles, as the apostles were from mending their nets ; and 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 81 
 
 however painful the dispensation was to himself, his 
 family and his friends, it afforded him probably the best 
 opportunity he could have had, both by his example and 
 writings, to strengthen the faith and animate the hopes 
 of believers to the end of time. It was during his im- 
 prisonment, that he conceived and wrote that wonderful 
 allegory, the * Pilgrim's Progress,' besides the 'Holy War,' 
 and many other things in his own inimitable style and 
 manner. It is hardly necessary to add, that the first 
 mentioned of these works, has been translated into almost 
 all the modern European languages, and next to the 
 Bible, is one of the most popular books in the world. 
 
 Soon after Bunyan's enlargement, in 1672, his friends 
 built him a meeting house in Bedford, where he con- 
 tinued to preach, till his death, which took place on the 
 12th of August, 1688. His last sickness he bore, with 
 much constancy and patience, and expressed himself as 
 if he desired nothing more than ' to be dissolved and be 
 with Christ, which is far better.' Fmding his vital 
 strength decay, having also settled his mind and his 
 affairs, as well as the shortness of the time and the vio- 
 lence of the disease would permit, with a constant and 
 Christian patience, he resigned his soul into the hands of 
 his most merciful Redeemer, following his Pilgrim from 
 the city of Destruction, to the new Jerusalem. 
 
 The following epitaph marks the place where his body 
 rests in hope of a glorious resurrection. 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress now is finished, 
 And death has laid him in his earthly bed. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 REV. THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 TRUE AND FALSE RELIGION. 
 
 Thomas Halliburton was born at Dublin, Dec. 25, 
 1674. The following narrative of his Cljristian experi- 
 ence is taken from an account which he himself wrote of 
 his life. 
 
 " It cannot be expected that at so great a distance I 
 should remember the particulars of the first three or four 
 years of my life, yet I may on the justest grounds pre- 
 sume that they were filled up with those sins that cleave 
 to children in their infancy ; many of which are not only 
 evil as they flow from a poisoned root, for an evil tree 
 will bring forth corrupt fruit ; but do also bear the im- 
 press of, and an evident congruity to their cormpt source, 
 and taste strong of that root of bitterness whereupon they 
 grow. 
 
 With the first appearances of reason, the corruption of 
 our spirit discovers itself. How early do our actions dis- 
 cover pride, passion, revenge, dissimulation and sensuality 
 to be inlaid, as it were, in our very constitution ! Any 
 ordinary observer may discover instances innumerable of 
 this sort very early in children. With these and the like 
 evils, no doubt were the first years of my life, whereof I 
 
84 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 remember little, filled up. ' Folly is bound in the heart 
 of a child,' and we go astray as soon as we are born, speak- 
 ing lies. 
 
 In the first period of my life, I had advantages above 
 most persons. My parents were eminently religious. I 
 was trained up under their eyes and inspection, for the 
 most part. I continually heard the sound of divine truths : 
 the beauty of the practice of religion was continually 
 represented to my eyes in their walk. I was by their 
 care kept from ill company that might infect n.e. By 
 these means I was restrained from those grosser outbreak- 
 ings that children often run into, and habituated to a 
 form of religion, and put upon the performing of such 
 outward duties of religion as my years were capable of. 
 Hence it appears that the sin I now am fully convinced 
 that I wallowed in, during this tract of time, is not to be 
 imputed, either as to inclination or actings, merely to 
 contracted habits, or occasional temptations, but it really 
 was the genuine fruit and result of that lamentable bias 
 which man, since the fall, is born with. Surely the 
 spring must be within, when, notwithstanding all the 
 care taken to keep me from them, I impetuously went on 
 in sinful courses. The holy God hedged up my way by 
 precepts, example, discipline ; but I broke through all. 
 Surely the spring must be within ; and surely it must be 
 very strong that was able to bear down such powerful 
 mounds as were set in its way by the providence of God, 
 and run with so full a stream notwithstanding all out- 
 ward occasions of its increase were cut off, as much as 
 might be. Herein 1 have full evidence of a he;irt natu- 
 rally estranged from, naj' opposite to the Lord ; and be- 
 sides this deeply aggravates my guilt. 
 
 To confirm this, when I now survey the decalogue, and 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 85 
 
 review this portion of my time, notwitlistanding the great 
 distance, I do distinctly remember, and, were it to edifi- 
 cation, could relate particular instances of the opposition 
 of my heart unto each of its precepts. Whatever influ- 
 ence education may have in moulding what is seen, yet 
 surely, ' the imaginations of man's heart are evil from his 
 youth.' 
 
 True it is, through the influence of the means before 
 mentioned, I did all this while abominate the more gross 
 breaches of all commands, and dislike open sin ; but 
 meanwhile my heart was set upon the less discernible 
 violations of the same holy law. My dislike was not 
 against sin, but the consequences of it, and the main 
 thing I regarded was the wor-ld's opinion of it. Fear of 
 punishment, pride that fears to be ill thought of, or at 
 best, a natural conscience enlightened by education, were 
 the only springs of any performance of duty, or abstinence 
 from sin. Prone I was all this while to sin, even of all 
 sorts which that age is carried into, and I indulged in it 
 in secret, when I could say, that ' no eye shall see me.' 
 
 Even those things which in my way seemed good, and 
 promising, such as detestation of gross sins, performance 
 of duties, &c. were either purely the effects of a forcible 
 custom, a bribe to a natural conscience to hold its peace, 
 a sacrifice to self, a slavish performance of what I took 
 no delight in, to avoid the whip, or sometimes a charm to 
 keep me from danger, which I thought would befall me, 
 and dreaded much if I neglected prayer. Thus my best 
 things dreadfully increased my guilt, being like the 
 apples of Sodom, fair to look at, promising while untried, 
 but within full of ashes and noisome matter. 
 
 Thus the spring of corruption confined in, on the one 
 side, I mean as to open profanity, by the mounds of edu- 
 
86 THOMAS HALLIBURtON. 
 
 cation, broke out on the other side, in a form of rcHgion 
 without, nay, plainly opposite to the power of it, \vhich is 
 no less hateful to the holy God. The prayer of the 
 wicked is sin ; his sacrifice is an abomination. Sin, in 
 the one case, has a little varnish that hides its deformity 
 somewhat, from the eyes of men ; in the other it is seen 
 in its native hue and colors. In the one case, it runs un- 
 der ground; in the other it openly follows its course. 
 
 But yet, after all, I must confess that such was the 
 strength of corruption that it drew me to several of the 
 more plain and gross sins inciderit to this age ; which 
 though some account pardonable follies in children, yet 
 the Lord makes another reckoning of them, and sundry 
 of them have been made bitter to me ; such as lying to 
 avoid punishment, Subbath-breaking, revenge, hatred of 
 my reprovers, and others of a like nature. Some partic- 
 ular sins committed in childhood which I had quite for- 
 gotten, as being attended with no notable circumstances 
 that could make them stick rather than other things, and 
 being of an older date than anj^hing else I can remember, 
 were brought fresh to my remembrance when the Lord 
 began closely to convince of sin ; and being presented in 
 their native colors, in the light of the Lord, and in all the 
 circumstances of time, place, partners in sin, &c. and 
 were made the matter of my deep humiliation, loathing, 
 and self- abhorrence, as not only full of wickedness in 
 themselves, but pregnant evidences of the deepest natural 
 depravity ; which made me see to whom it was owing 
 that I went not to all the heights of wickedness and the 
 grossest abominations that ever any were carried to, and 
 which a haughty heart, if not restrained seasonably, 
 partly by secret power, and partly by outward means, 
 would inevitably have carried me to. ' Folly is bound in 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 87 
 
 the heart of a child,' deeply rooted and fastened there. 
 And no thanks to the best that they are kept from the 
 worst things. What a monster had I been, if left to my- 
 self, and not seasonably restrained by outward means, and 
 inward power ! Blessed be the invisible hand and the 
 outward instruments of these restraints that kept me back 
 from sinning. 
 
 The first rise of my concern about religion. 
 
 In the month of Ma}^ 1685, my mother being, by the 
 heat of persecution, obliged to retire to Holland, I went 
 along with her. While we were at sea, being in some 
 real or apprehended danger, my conscience, which had 
 for all the by-gone ten years, so far as I can now rem.em- 
 ber, been fast asleep, began to awaken ; I was challenged 
 for sin, terrified with the apprehensions of bell and death, 
 and the wrath of God, which I had no thought about be- 
 fore I was brought to this distress. ' Thej^ have turned 
 their back unto me and not their face ; but in the time of 
 their trouble they shall sa.y. Arise and save us.' 
 
 All this concern was nothing more than a sad mixture 
 of natural fear, and a selfish desire of preservation from 
 the danger that was supposed imminent, at least, by me. 
 Peace, acceptance, communion with God came not much 
 in my thoughts. I was afraid and unwilling' to die: I 
 would gladly have been out of danger of hell. This was 
 all my exercise at this time. It was not sin, but death 
 and its consequences I was concerned to be rid of. 
 
 As this exercise was wholly selfish without any con- 
 cern for the Lord's glory, so it led me to selfish courses 
 for relief I promised that were I at land I would live 
 and be better than formerly : I engaged to keep all God's 
 
88 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 commands. My mother told me I was in a mistake, and 
 should not hold there. But there was no persuad ng one, 
 so ignorant of his own heart as I at this time was, of 
 this. I multiplied resolutions, and doubted not myself as 
 to the performance. 
 
 No sooner was T come to land and fixed at Rotterdam, 
 but I verified what had been foretold: I forgot all my 
 promises and resolutions. The unrenewed and corrupt 
 heart being free from the force put upon it by the natural 
 conscience, under appearance of hazard, took its old 
 course. I returned to former evils and grew worse. Cor- 
 ruption that had been confined in for a little, having easi- 
 ly forced down all these mounds raised to hold it in, ran 
 with the greater violence. It is true, through the mercy 
 of God, I was still restained from open scandalous sins, to- 
 ward which the reverence for my godly and prudent 
 mother, and the principles of education did contribute not 
 a little : but as to secret evils of all sorts, I had no aver- 
 sion to them ; nay to many of them I was strongly in- 
 clined, and in many instances followed my own inclina- 
 tions. I was a ready and easy prey to every temptation, 
 notwithstanding all my engagements. 
 
 At this time 1 wanted not frequent convictions, occa- 
 sioned sometimes by the preaching of the word, and at 
 other seasons, by the light of my education which still 
 hung about me, and was a check upon me, but all this 
 was only like the starts of a sleeping man, occasioned by 
 some sudden noise : up he gets, but presently he is down 
 and faster asleep than before. I found means to get rid 
 of these convictions, I would, when they were uneasy, 
 promise them a hearing afterwards. At other seasons I 
 looked at the tendency of them ; that they aimed at en- 
 gaging me to be holy : and then I pored upon the diffi- 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 89 
 
 culties of that course, still I not only got the edge of my 
 convictions blunted, but frighted myself from a compli- 
 ance. When convictions were lighter, I got rid of them 
 by withdrawing from what had been the means of pro- 
 ducing them. Sometimes I promised them fair, and so 
 put them off at that time, but minded it not afterward. 
 Sometimes they issued in fruitless, inactive and slothful 
 wishes. At other times when they were troublesome, I turned 
 my eye to something I thought good, in my way ; though 
 the Lord knows, little was there that had so much as any 
 tolerable appearance of good. Sometimes I endeavored 
 to diminish my sin as much as I could ; ' In all my la- 
 bors they shall find no iniquity in me, that were sin.' 
 When these shifts failed, and they were still uneasy, I 
 then betook myself to diversions, and they choked the 
 word and convictions from it. 
 
 About this time I met with some things that crossed 
 me. Herein I turned thoughtful what way to rid myself 
 of these difficulties. I seemed more than ordinarily con- 
 cerned, and my spirit was much troubled : yet really this 
 strait led me not to God : but my thoughts were spent in 
 resentment against the real or supposed authors of my un- 
 easiness, in proud, selfish and vain contrivances for mine 
 own ease and relief. 
 
 About the month of December, 1686, upon the earnest 
 desire of my father's sister, who was married to John 
 Glass, provost of Perth, I was sent back from Holland to 
 my native land, to live with her. While I staid in my 
 uncle Glass's family, I saw nothing of religion, though 
 my aunt was a woman very moral. Here 1 was much 
 indulged. I got liberty and I took it. 1 saw little of the 
 worship of God, and I easily complied, and turned remiss 
 too. What further advances I made toward an open re- 
 jection of the very form of religion in this place, I do not 
 9 
 
90. THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 now at this distance distinctly remember: but no doubt 
 they were great. This I do remember that I found my 
 aversion to those sins, which through the influence of ed- 
 ucation, I abominated before, sensibly weakened. Yea, I 
 found some secret hankering after some of them, a delight 
 in those who were guilty, and a sort of approbation of 
 them in my heart. Yet still I was in a great measure re- 
 strained from an avowed practical cornphance by the aw- 
 ful impressions which early instruction had left on my 
 mind, and which were not as yet wholly worn off, though - 
 they were far decayed, considering the shortness of my 
 stay, v/hence I may easily discern what had become of 
 them, if I had stayed longer there. Further I mind 
 that, at this time, I had a great aversion to learning, 
 which was the only good thing that in this place was 
 urged upon me. I looked on it as a burden and drudgery 
 to which the basest employment were to be preferred ; and 
 hence I no way set my heart to it, but trifled my time 
 away ; and many a sinful shift did betake myself to, that 
 I might get the time shufiled over. 
 
 Thus I spent the winter. In the spring of 1687, my 
 mother, fearing I might be ensnared with the company I 
 was now amongst, came home for me, as minding the 
 wise man's observation ; The rod and reproof give wis- 
 dom, but a child left to himself, bringeth his mother to 
 shame. But so great was my wickedness, that in spite 
 of natural aflfection, I was grieved at her return, and when 
 first I heard her voice, it damped me : 1 cared not to see 
 the. Nothing I disliked more than a godh% affectionate 
 mother's converse. I feared to be questioned as to the past. 
 If eared she would carry me away back to Holland, whereby 
 I should beput under uneasy restraints from my sinful liberty. 
 
 In the spring, or towards summer, my mother carried 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 91 
 
 me with her, much agaiust my will, and put me to school 
 there at Erasmus' school. I stayed but a short while 
 there ; but by the advantageous method of teaching 
 adopted there, I began to delight in learning, and quickly 
 turned proud of my success, but otherwise, lived as I had 
 done before, still worse and worse under all the means 
 God made use of to bring me near and keep me close to 
 himself. 
 
 In the month of Februury, 1637, king James sent forth 
 his proclamations for indulgence, whereon, most of those 
 who had fled, returned home, and my mother amongst 
 others, towards August or September that year. It had 
 been for my advantage, probably for my education, to 
 have stayed in Holland, which made me unwilling to re- 
 turn. In our return we were in imminent danger of ship- 
 wreck, but by the mercy of God, escaped. The danger 
 was sudden, and suddenly over, and so left little or no 
 impression on me. When we came home, we went to 
 Perth, and abode there till harvest, 1690, or 1691, 1 cannot 
 be positive which. 
 
 Presently upon our settlement in this place, I was en- 
 tered at school, and made some better proficiency than 
 before. But as to religion, I continued as unconcerned 
 as ever, as intent upon sin, as averse to duty as formerly 
 However I acted while under my mother's eye, when I 
 was among my comrades, I took my liberty, and went 
 with them into all the follies and extravagances they 
 went into, but with this aggravation above most of them, 
 that what I did, I knew to be a fault, very often, whereas 
 they, at least many of them, did not. Yea, not only went 
 I along with them, but was foremost and enticed others 
 into folly. Yet still through the mercy of God, I was 
 kept froni openly scandalous evils, save one that I mind; 
 
92 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 with some other bojs I was seized in a garden taking 
 some fruit; whereof I was much ashamed, and never at- 
 tempted the like again, not from any real dislike of the 
 sin, but from fear of discovery. 
 
 About this time the Lord, by the means I lived under, 
 the preaching of the word, catechizing in public and 
 
 vate, enlightened my mind further in the knowledge 
 of the law and gospel. My capacity growing with my 
 years and knowledge of what was sin, and what was 
 duty, and what the fearful consequences of sin were, and 
 the advantage of duly increasing, sin was left open and 
 naked without the excuse of ignorance ; and conscience 
 had a further advantage, being armed with more knowl- 
 edge and better informed ; hereon its checks, when now, 
 by the Lord's providence, it was in some measure awaken- 
 ed, were more frequent and sharp, and not so easily to be 
 evaded. 
 
 Some touches of sickness riveted on me the impressions 
 of mortality and frailty, and the tendency of each of a 
 numerous train of diseases by which we are daily exposed 
 to death. Hereon I was brought into and kept under 
 continual ' bondage through fear of death.' 
 
 But that which above all affected me most deeply, and 
 gave an edge to conviction, was the continual fears we 
 were in, of being suddenly destroyed by the Papists. This 
 kept death in its most terrible shape ever in mine eyes and 
 thoughts. 
 
 Herein I was cast into most grievous disquietude. ' I 
 took counsel in my soul having sorrow in my heart daily.' 
 I was in a dreadful strait betwixt two. On the one hand, 
 my convictions of sin w^ere sharp, and fears of a present 
 death and judgment quickened them. This made me 
 attend more to the word ; the more I attended to it, they 
 
♦THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 93 
 
 increased the more, and I was daily persuaded more and 
 more that there was no way to be rid of them, but by 
 turning religious. On the other hand if I should engage 
 in earnest with religion, then 1 saw the hazard of suffer- 
 ing for it, and wist not but I might be called immediately 
 to die for it, and this I could not think of doing. Betwixt 
 the two I was dreadfully tossed in my own mind: some 
 nights sleep went from mine eyes, and I was full of 
 trouble, 1 set imagination at work and did sometimes 
 strangely impress myself with the fancy of an Irish cut- 
 throat holding a dagger to my breast and offering me 
 these terms ; ' Q,uit your religion, turn Papist and you 
 shall live ; hold it and you are dead.' The imagination 
 was sometimes so strong that I have almost fainted with 
 it, and still I was dreadfully unresolved what to do; 
 sometimes I would let him give the fatal stroke, but hereon 
 my spirits shrunk and my heart failed at the apprehension 
 of death ; at other times I resolved to quit my religion, 
 but with resolution to take it up again when the danger 
 was over, but here I could get no rest. What, thought I, 
 if the treacherous enemy destroy me after I have done it, 
 and so I lose both life and religion ? And what if I die 
 before the danger is over, and so lime be not allowed me 
 to repent? 
 
 This sort of exercise frequently recurred, and I con- 
 tinued this way at times, even till after the battle of Gil- 
 lecrankie, which was fought July 27, 1689. It had some 
 interruptions, and then I was remiss as before ; but for 
 near a year, few weeks, and frequently few days or nights, 
 passed over me, without some such exercise; but the fears 
 of the Papist being quickly over, my remaining difficulty 
 was only with my convictions. Now as to these, I en- 
 deavored to reheve myself. 1. By promises of abstaining 
 *9 
 
94 THOMAS HALLIBURTON* 
 
 from those sins, which more directly troubled me. ' And 
 Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron, and said, entreat 
 the Lord for me, and I will let the people go.' 2. I took 
 sanctuary in resolutions of inquiring into the Lord's 
 mind, and complying. But when I consulted any prac' 
 tical book, or the ministry of the word, and found them 
 not give such directions as agreed with my unrenewed 
 heart, I was grieved and perplexed. 3. I thought to find 
 peace in a more careful attendance upon duties. Thus 
 being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about 
 to establish mine own righteousness, I submitted not my- 
 self unto the righteousness of God, nor showed I any 
 regard to Christ, who is the end of the law for righteous- 
 ness to every one that belie veth.' 
 
 Though my foolish heart ran to these courses, yet 
 really they afforded no solid repose ; for 1. The very first 
 sin against light, and the first omission of duty, (which 
 very speedily ensued upon the intermission of the force 
 that present conviction put upon me,) shook all. And I 
 was confounded at the thoughts of appearing before God 
 in a rigbleousness so plainly ragged, that where it had 
 one piece, it wanted two. 2. Though these ways gave 
 some ease when trials, were at a distance, yet when the 
 thoughts of death came near, I found not quiet here. 
 This was not gold tried in the fire, nor would it abide so 
 much as a near hand view of a trial; but at the very ap- 
 pearance of a storm, this sandy foundation shook. When- 
 ever convictions were awakened as to new sins, challen- 
 ges for old ones recurred, which showed that the cure was 
 not perfect. ' Behold all ye that kindle a fire, that com- 
 pass 3'ourselves about with sparks; that walk in the light 
 of your fire and in the sparks that ye have kindled, 
 this shall ye have of my hand, ye shall lie down in 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 95 
 
 The effects of this exercise that abode and increased 
 afterwards were principally these three: 1. Hereby I 
 was brought into a doubt about the truths of religion, the 
 being of a God and things eternal. This hesitation 
 was not from any arguments that offered themselves 
 against these truths, or from any suspicion of ministers, 
 parents or others from whom I had received them ; but 
 merely from this, that whenever in danger or straits, I 
 would build on them, a suspicion secretly haunted me, 
 What if these things are not 1 Whence I was brought 
 to think that I had not certainty and evidence about them 
 answerable to the weight that was to be laid on them. 
 1 thought death and the trouble attending it were certain 
 and sensible things, but 1 could not get my mind satisfied 
 and fully assured upon the truths of religion. Still, when 
 under apprehensions of death I would have taken rest 
 upon the truths of religion, the persuasion failed me, and 
 my mind began to waver, though I could give no reason 
 of this. ' The way of the wicked is as darkness, they 
 know not at what they stumble.' 2. I was hereby persua- 
 ded, and this persuasion ever after increased in strength, 
 that I could never have peace till I came to another sort 
 of evidence and certainty about the truths of religion, 
 than 1 was yet acquainted withal. Death I saw inevita- 
 ble, it might be very sudden ; I was capable of being im- 
 pressed with the forethought of it and could not banish 
 them. Therefore, concluded I, unless I obtain such a 
 conviction of religion and such an interest in it as will 
 make me not only look at death without fear, but go 
 through it with comfort, ' Better for me I had never been;' 
 but how or when this was to be obtained I was utterly 
 uncertain. Here I lay in great perplexitj'', under the 
 melancholy impressions that I had hitherto spent my 
 
96 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 money for ' that which is not bread, and my labor for 
 that which satisfieth not.' This perplexity was some- 
 what eased, while one day, reading how Mr. Robert 
 Bruce was shaken about the being of a God, and how at 
 length he came to the fullest satisfaction, hereby a hope 
 secretly sprung up, that one time or other the like might 
 befall me, and that the Lord might satisfy me in this. 
 Here was the dawning of a light, that though long it did 
 not fully clear up, yet was never put wholly out again ; 
 though it was far from satisfying, yet it kept from despair 
 as to the issue. 
 
 About this time, one Mr. Donaldson, a reverend old 
 minister, preached at Perth, and came to visit my mother. 
 He called for me, and, among other questions, he asked 
 me if I sought a blessing on my learning. To which I 
 ingenuously answered, " No.'' He replied with austere 
 look, " Sir, unsanctified learning has done much mischief 
 to the kirk of God." This saying stuck with me ever 
 after, and left a deep impression on me: so that whenever 
 I was any way straitened, I applied to God by prayer 
 for help in my learning, and pardon for not seeking his 
 blessing. But this was only when. I had more than ordi- 
 nary difficulties. 
 
 My mother designing to have me well educated, for the 
 advantage of better schools in harvest, 1690 or 1691, 
 removed to Edinburgh, and fixed me at Mr. Gavin Weir's 
 school, where I stayed, till November 1692, when I en- 
 tered the college under Mr. Alexander Cunningham. 
 Here it was my mercy that I fell in with sober comrades 
 and studiously inclined. 
 
 While I abode here, the Lord gave not over his deal- 
 ings with me. Long also did he bear with my manners. 
 In this place the work went on; for 1. As knowledge 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 97 
 
 increased, so convictions, if not in force, yet in number 
 increased ; still as knowledge of the law grew, which it 
 daily did, under the means of grace, the knowledge of sin 
 also grew : 'For by the law is the knowledge of sin.' 
 The Lord daily let me see that he was wroth on account 
 of sins that formerly I had not noticed. 2. By new 
 afflictions the impressions of my mortality were riveted, 
 and I was still the further in bondage through the grow- 
 ing fears of death. 3 The word being daily preached, 
 and daily meetino^ with me, forced me, thousrh unwilling, 
 to make some inquiry into my sincerity in religion, which 
 I now made some profession of, A close word will, at 
 length, even bring a Judas to say, ' Master, is it I?' 
 4. By the means of grace, Herod-like, to save some 
 bosom idols, I engaged to do many things and hear the 
 word gladly. 
 
 The means whereby these effects were wrought were 
 1. The preaching of the word. ' By the two edged sword 
 that goes out of his mouth,' the Lord did often woimd 
 me, and the secrets of my heart were made manifest. I 
 found the word a discerner of the thoughts and intents of 
 the heart. 2. The Lord made use of the rod. He laid 
 his hand on me. When I was well and in health the 
 word did not affect me so much, nor did I attend to it so 
 carefully. ' I spake unto thee in thy prosperity and thou 
 wouldest not hear.' ' In their affliction they will seek me 
 early.' 3. 1 read Shepard's treatise called the " Sincere 
 Convert," which cut me to the quick : It came very close 
 home to me and affected me very much, and put me to 
 question deeply my sincerity. 
 
 I was driven sometimes to great extremity, and carried 
 the length of a form of religion. I prayed not only even- 
 ing and morning, but at some other times retired and 
 
98 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 would weep plentifully in secret, and read and pray, and 
 resolve to live otherwise than I had done. But this good- 
 ness was ' as the morning cloud and early dew.' It kept 
 pace with my convictions. It was force, not nature : and 
 this strictness lasted no longer than the force that occa- 
 sioned it did. 
 
 While I was under these distresses many a wicked ex- 
 pedient did I resort to for relief, though without effect. 
 If anything was spoken or mentioned, that appeared in 
 my favor, then I eagerly clung to that, for I was very un- 
 willing to see my own hypocrisy, and therefore, if I had 
 but a show to found mj^ claim on, I laid hold on what was 
 offered ; like the young man, who answered, being unac- 
 quainted with the spiritual extent of the law. 'AH these 
 things have I kept from my youth, what lack I yet V So 
 said I. When I found somewhat required that I neither 
 had complied with, nor meant t-o comply with, because 
 perhaps it was on some account or other, dear, then I re- 
 solved to compound the matter and make amends some 
 other way ; and beg a license for that like Naaman. 
 When any Christian characteristic was adduced that I 
 could not pretend to, then I was ready to question wheth- 
 er he that offered it were not mistaken, and secretly ques- 
 tioned the truth, following the measure that Satan took 
 with Eve. When I was unable to see, not through the 
 want of sufficient light, but through my unwillingness to 
 admit it, I was ready to quarrel that ministers and 
 books did not tell me plainly. Sometimes when 1 met 
 with that w^hich plainly condemned me, I promised it a 
 hearing at a more convenient season, and so, like Felix, 
 shifted the trouble for the time. Sometimes I would slip 
 over those things that were against me. ' He that doeth 
 evil Cometh not to the light, because his deeds are evil, 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 99 
 
 lest his deeds should be reproved.' I carefully sought for 
 the lowest marks and the least degrees of grace that 
 might be saving. I designed only as much religion as 
 would take me to heaven : and therefore 1 still inquired 
 whh the young man, ' What good thing shall I do that I 
 may inherit eternal life ? ' 1 desired no more than would 
 serve this turn : and anything that could serve this, pro- 
 vided my beloved lusts were spared, I would consent to. 
 When none of these shifts would avail, in the general, I 
 would resolve upon doing anything that the Lord requir- 
 ed, like him who said, ' Lord, I will follow thee whitherso- 
 ever thou goest.' But then, with him I still retracted, 
 when the Lord, as he often did, told me of particulars he 
 would try me in, which were to cross my inclination. 
 When I saw I must quit these of which the Lord often 
 convinced me, then I begged a little respite or delay, after 
 which I would comply. Augustine-hke, I was content 
 to be holy but not yet. An excuse, a delay in God's ac- 
 count is a plain refusal : for all commands and invitations 
 require present obedience. ' Now is the accepted time, 
 now is the day of salvation.' After all my ways were 
 tried, I found no relief.. I blamed my education, I knew 
 there was some change; my question was whether it 
 were the right one. Now, thought I, if I had not been re- 
 ligiously educated, but had turned all at once, it would 
 have been more easily discernible. Thus I was entan- 
 gled in my own ways. And the true reason of my 
 strait was, I was shunning, and not really desirous of 
 light unless it had been in my favor. Many other deceits 
 and shifts my heart used, which now, at so great a dis- 
 tance, I cannot remember. 
 
 Though now I seemed someiinies to have gone far, 
 yet really I was wholly wrong, for 1. All this while be- 
 
100 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 ing convinced of the necessity of a righteousness, but 
 ignorant of Christ; 'I sought it bj the works of the 
 law.' 2. The carnal mind, that is enmity against God 
 and is not subject to the law of God, still continued. 3. 
 All my exercise was only a tossing betwixt light and love 
 to sin: and sin still carried it, for my bosom idols I 
 -would by no means part wilh. 4. Self was the anima- 
 ting ])rinciple of any form of religion that 1 had ; so much 
 as would save from hell or take me to heaven and no 
 more I desired. 5. All this religion came and went with 
 such occasions mentioned: it was not abiding. 
 
 Providentially, about this time, Clark's " Martyrology," 
 was cast into my hand. I loved history, and read it with 
 eagerness, and some impressions it left on me that wanted 
 not their own use then nor afterwards; 1. The patience, 
 joy, and courage of the martyrs persuaded me that there 
 was a power, a validity in religion, beyond the power of 
 mere nature. 2. I was convinced that I was a stranger 
 as yet to this, because [ could not think of suffering. 3. 
 I was brought to some faint desires after acquaintance 
 with this power of religion. 
 
 I observe that at this time, 1. God restrained me from 
 many follies others ran into, and to which I was much 
 inclined by my bodily infirmity, a trouble in my joints 
 which made me unable to walk. ' Thus he hedged in my 
 way,' that 1 should not find my lovers. 2. The Lord in 
 mercy provided me companions that w^ere tender of me 
 and took care of me. ' He fed me and led me though I 
 knew him not.' 
 
 The air agreeing neither with my mother nor mysel , 
 she was advised, and at length resolved, to leave Edin- 
 burgh, and go to St, Andrews, a place more wholesome 
 and more convenient for my education, to which she had 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 101 
 
 a special regard. When I settled at St. Andrews, the 
 Lord left not his work of striving with me; but the same 
 sovereign grace that began went on with it. 
 
 Here the Lord cast my lot under choice means of grace, 
 the ministry of worthy Mr. Thomas Forrester. Under 
 this searching ministry, the Lord began to give me some 
 small discoveries of the more secret and spiritual evil of my 
 heart, and carried me into the secret chambers of imagery, 
 to let me see what were the hidden operations of my heart. 
 He opened my eyes to discern somewhat of that world of 
 pride that is in the heart, and the wickedness of it. 
 Though I was to some extent convinced of my own 
 w^eakness, when I had anj'- difRculty m.ore than ordinary 
 before me, I would seek help from God, yet when I got 
 through I valued myself upon my deliverance. Of the 
 wickedness and injustice of this, the Lord, in some meas- 
 ure, convinced me. He convinced me of the wickedness 
 of the strajnng of ray heart after idols, especially in the 
 time of worship, I was made to see, in some measure, 
 the danger of offering such duties to him. I was like- 
 wise led to see that 1 was trusting to my duties, and rest- 
 ing on the bare performance. With the Pharisee I had 
 thought it enough if I could say, ' I fast twice in a week.' 
 The Lord convinced me that he might answer, ' When 
 ye fasted, did ye at all fast unto me, even to me ? ' 
 
 These, when added to former discoveries of guilt, gave 
 me frequently much uneasiness, and cast me into racking 
 perplexity and disquietude; but the darkness and enmity 
 of my mind remaining, I still had recourse to wicked and 
 vain courses for peace, such as those before mentioned ; 
 but they afforded me little quiet. Pharaoh-like, 1 engaged 
 to mend those things wherein formerly I had failed ; but 
 with him, I quickly broke my promises, when my anxie- 
 10 
 
102 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 ty was over. At last, finding no peace in any of these 
 courses, I resolved to enter into solemn covenant with 
 the Lord ; and, accordingly, I wrote and subscribed a 
 solemn covenant, whereby I bound myself to be his: like 
 Isaiah, when under the awful impressions of Sinai and 
 the dreadful appearance of God, then, I said, ' All that the 
 Lord our God shall say unto us, we will hear and do it.' 
 and like the scribe that came to Christ, ' Master, I will 
 follow thee, whithersoever thou goest.' 
 
 When I had once done this, I concluded all was right ; 
 for I found a sort of present peace. Amendment 1 thought 
 sufficient atonement, and such an engagement 1 looked 
 on as actual performance. ' 1 now said : ' 1 have peace- 
 offerings with me : this day I have paid my vows.' At 
 this time I found frequently an unusual sweetness in the 
 word; especially in hearing Mr. Forrester lecture on 
 Acts 13: 52. on Sabbath night. There, as 1 received 
 sometimes the most piercing convictions, so I received 
 ' tastes of the good word of God and the powers of the 
 world to come.' Thus, like the stony-ground hearers, 
 • I heard the word and anon with joy received it.' Com- 
 mon gifts increasing as light increased, I took them for 
 special grace, and thus, having taken up like the foolish 
 virgins, the lamp of a profession without the oil, I began 
 to be esteemed by some for that which really I was not, 
 but only appeared to be. 
 
 But the merciful and good God would not suffer me to 
 rest here. The Lord quickly let me see my mistake. 
 The imaginary peace that I had by making this covenant 
 \vas quickly lost by breaking it. Corruption retaining 
 still its power, its locks being not yet shorn, whenever a 
 temptation offered, like Sampson upon a cry of the Philis- 
 tines being on him, it broke all those ties with which I 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 103 
 
 foolishly thought it bound. Like the children of Israel 
 at Sinai, I engaged firmly and herein thought all right ; 
 but when I came to Kibroth-hattaavah, which was the 
 next station in their course through the wilderness, and a 
 temptation fell in my way, I began to murmur, loathing 
 the manna and lusting after flesh ; and this broke all. 
 The Lord's wrath hereon being afresh intimated against 
 me, as it was against them on that occasion. Not only 
 upon such breaches met I with new challenges, but old 
 ones were revived, and by this I found former accounts 
 still standing against me, which filled me with confusions 
 and jealousies of these wrjs. The Lord insinuated some 
 discoveries of the treachery of my engagements, let me 
 see that my heart was not sound, and that there were se- 
 cret reserves in my engagements, for some sins from 
 which my heart was not divorced, though yet I remember, 
 that at the time I made these engagements, when my 
 heart put in for sparing these sins, my light forced me 
 as it were for the present, though not without reluctance, 
 to give them up, at least, in words : but really I did not do it. 
 The Lord let loose some corruptions, like the Canaanites to 
 try me, took oflf the restraints, and then like water confined 
 in, they became more violent and troublesome, and at length 
 bore down all that I had set in their way. By these means, 
 the Lord let me see the fruitlessness and vanity of this cov- 
 enant, which, however specious, was but a covenant with 
 death, and by the discovery, I was put into the utmost 
 confusion, while the evil I thought 1 was provided against, 
 came upon me. 
 
 Notwithstanding I realized the vanity of these legal, 
 selfish, anti-evangelical courses, I still cleaved to them ; 
 for the peace I lost by breaking, 1 still endeavored to re- 
 cover by renewing my covenant, trusting myself in the 
 
104 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 greatness of my way, and laboring in the fire. I laid the 
 blame still on some accidental defect in my former man- 
 agement, and I thought, were that provided against, all 
 would be well. When still I found something wanting, 
 I cast about in my own mind and contrived to make it 
 up with something extraordinary of my own, — the mul- 
 tiplication of duties, or some such thing. 
 
 Now, as I was really miserable in following these 
 courses, so, if the Lord of infinite njercy had not prevent- 
 ed it, I had landed in one of four sad issues, wherein often- 
 times such exercises and courses terminate: either 1. If I 
 had been freed from convictions, or the Lord had given 
 over his striving with me, after I had been carried the 
 length of a form of religion, I had surely, notwithstanding 
 all the disappointments, sat down satisfied with that, as 
 having by the endeavors of my hand and its labors, ob- 
 tained that which would give me a sort of life. Or, 2. 
 If convictions had been carried on, and the Lord had left 
 me still to follow the courses I took, I should have labor- 
 ed in the fire all my days, wearied and vexed myself for 
 very vanity, spending my money for that which is not 
 bread, and my labor for that which does net profit ; in a 
 continual vicissitude of vows, covenants, engagements, 
 and resolutions ; engagements and false peace; breaches 
 and racking convictions, would alternately have taken 
 place, and thus I should have spent m}^ daj's, and, at the 
 end, have been a fool. Or, 3. After I had wearied my- 
 self, for a while in those vain ways, I should utterly have 
 given up religion as a vain thing, and have said with 
 those mentioned by the prophet, * It is vain to serve God : 
 and what profit is it that we h ive kept his ordinance, and 
 that we have walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts?' 
 and so with them I had gone over to plain atheism and 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 105 
 
 profanity. Or, 4. Being forced to seek shelter from my 
 convictions, and being so often and sadl v' disappointed by 
 all the ways I tried, 1 had at last ended in despair like 
 Judas, and said, ' This evil is of the Lord, why should I 
 wait for the Lord any longer?' like the wicked king of 
 Israel. And in very deed, I had some experience of all 
 these issues. 
 
 When I was thus disappointed, especially after the 
 makini^ and frequent repeating of vows and engage- 
 ments, I was cast into the utmost perplexity to find where 
 the fault lay. I found this way of covenanting with- 
 God recommended by ministers, mentioned in the Scrip- 
 ture, and the people of God declared they had found the 
 benefit of it. I could not challenge myself, at least, at 
 some time, for known guilt in the making of it. What 
 I engaged to do, I was resolved upon at the time, I did 
 engage with much concern and solemnity; and, for some 
 time after, [would have walked with much strictness; 
 but, though I could nor then discern where the blame lay, 
 1 have since been made to see it. 1. Being ignorant of 
 the righteousness of God, 1 still went about to estabUsh a 
 righteousness of my own. And, though in w^ords I re- 
 nounced this, yet indeed, I souglit righteousness and 
 peace, not in the • Lord Jesus Christ who is the end of 
 the law for every one that believeth,' but in m.y own cov- 
 enants and engagements ; so that I really put them in 
 Christ's room. 2. Whatever room I, in words, allowed 
 Christ as to forgiveness for bygone sins, yet my peace 
 and hope of it or the future, and hence my trust, was in 
 the evenness of my own walk ; I obtained not righteous- 
 ness, because I ' sought it, as it were, by the works of the 
 law.' This neglect of Christ and shuffling my own cov- 
 enants and obedience in his room, was evident : becausei 
 •10 
 
106 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 whenever I was challenged for sin, instead of liaving re- 
 cou.se to his blood, I still sought peace only in renewing 
 my vows. 3. The consent I gave to the law, was not 
 from the reconcilement of my heart to its holiness, but 
 merely in compliance with the constraint put upon me by 
 convictions ; but in very deed ' the enmity against it,' still 
 contmued. And I would not have made it my choice, if 
 that had not forced me to it. 4. I engaged to live a new 
 life with an old heart, not being yet made to see, that 
 unless the tree is made good the Iruit cannot be good. 
 5. The eye was not single. All I aimed at was self, 
 to be eased of convictions and obtain peace from these 
 racking disquietments 1 was under. I had not the least 
 concern for the Lord's glory, provided I were safe. 6. In 
 a word, I engaged before the Lord had thoroughly en- 
 gaged me. We may be willing in some sort before the 
 Lord hath made us willing. The first real kindness be- 
 gins on his side ; and we are never engaged to love, till 
 the Lord's kindness draws us. The force of convictions 
 may overpower us into some pretensions of kmdness ; thus 
 it was with me. Willing I was to be saved from hell, 
 and to have heaven under the general notion of a good 
 place: but not to be saved in God's way, on his terms; 
 and in order to the ends he proposes in the salvation of 
 sinners. 
 
 This was not my only trouble at this time. Now I 
 was engaged in the study of metaphysics and natural 
 theology, accustomed to subtle notions, and fascinated by 
 them; whereupon, Satan, in conjunction with the natu- 
 ral atheism of my heart, took occasion to cast me into 
 racking disquietude about the great truths of religion, 
 more especially the being of a God. Thus, in the justice 
 of God, that wherein I delighted, I mean subtle and ab- 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 107 
 
 stract notions, proved the occasionof much perplexing diffi- 
 culty to me. For, 1. Some seeming success in my stud- 
 ies, the first year I engaged in the study of philosophy, 
 fostered the natural conceit we all have of our own ability, 
 and emboldened me to proceed farther than was meet. So 
 true is that saying, ' Knowledge puffeth up.' Hereon the 
 natural curiosity of my vain mind took a liberty to in- 
 quire, without fear, into things too high, and made me 
 promise myself satisfaction about them, in and by my 
 own inquiries. ' Vain man would be wise, though man 
 be born like a wild ass's colt.' Thus he intrudes into 
 those things which he hath not seen, 'Vainly puffed up 
 by his fleshly mind.' 3. And hereon sufFt-ring a disap- 
 pointment, and failing of success, the natural atheism and 
 enmity of my carnal mind, that rather inclines to reject 
 the things of God than our own darkness, began when 
 puzzled to inquire, ' How can these things be?' Thus 
 professing myself wise, I became a fool. 4. Satan, who 
 waits all advantages, finding me thus caught in the thick- 
 et, plunged me deeper, hy throwing in ' fiery darts,' of 
 subtle arguings against the being of a God, whereby all 
 was set on flame, and sometimes cast into violent con- 
 vulsions. 
 
 Though the atheism and enmity of my heart against 
 God, were still un removed and great, yet the Lord suffer- 
 ed me not to yield, but made me recoil at the terrible con- 
 clusion aimed at by these arguings. 
 
 During this period of tim.e, under all these wrestlings 
 and strugglings betwixt growing light and sin, corrup- 
 tions, as I grew in years, became stronger and stronger, 
 took deeper root and received an increase of strength by 
 occasional temptations, and new force from the weak re- 
 sistance made to them by these vain courses. As the 
 
108 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 law came nearer to its spiritual meaning and extent, sin 
 revived, and appeared more discernible in its strength, 
 ' and sin taking occasion by the commandment, wrought 
 me inclinations to all evil,' and the power of sin increased 
 until it slew me. 
 
 Under this perplexity, I betook myself still to vain 
 courses. *I gadded about to change my way; sent to 
 Egypt, and v/ent to Assyria, yet could not they help me.' 
 But yet these exercises and perplexities had some in- 
 termissions, and then I grew remiss and careless. ' My 
 goodness, like the morning cloud and early dew, soon 
 passed away' 
 
 However by these means, I was brought to a specious 
 form of religion. For now, 1. I took some care to avoid 
 those sins, whether secret or open, which thwarted the 
 light of my conscience most plainly. I not only abstained 
 from those evi^s to which most even of the more sober 
 sort of students, were frequently drawn into, but with a 
 sort of resolution, I kept at a distance from the occa- 
 sions of them. Thus I began to escape the pollutions of 
 the world through the knowledge of the truth. 2. I was 
 now more exact and punctual in attending duties, public, 
 private and secret, than heretofore, and that not without 
 some concern, at least sometimes, as to my inward frame 
 in them. Thus I thought I kept his ordinances. 3. When 
 I was ensnared either into the commission of sins or the 
 omission of duty, I was brought to a deep sorrow, and for 
 some time ' walked mournfully before God.' 4. Whereas 
 I alwaj^s had a sort of awful regard for them that feared 
 God, ever since I began to be in the least awakened, now 
 I began to have a sort of affection for them, and pleasure 
 in their company, and to converse even, about matters of 
 religion. Thus light forced an approbation of them on 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 109 
 
 my mind, and to give the glory to God, their light so 
 shone before me, that I could not but lake notice of them. 
 5. I had frequent ' tastes of the word of God and the 
 powers of the world to come,' which made me del ght in 
 approaching to God. And 6. 1 seemed to receive some- 
 thing like an answer to my petitions, when, under a sense 
 of impotency, I betook myself to God by prayer. In any 
 strait, I found help so remarkable, that I could but take 
 notice of it. The Lord hereby drew me gradually in to 
 expect good in his way ; and though I was wrong in the 
 main, as it were, encouraged the faintest beginnings of a 
 look towards a return. 
 
 Now, though I got 'a name to live, yet really I was 
 dead.' For, my natural darkness still remained unrf n^oved. 
 Some dawnings of light were indeed begun, and some 
 discoveries made of w4iat formerly I had not known, yet 
 the power of darkness still remained and the veil was not 
 yet taken away, nor were spiritual things seen in a true 
 light. The enmity of my mind against the law, espe- 
 cially in some instances, remained in force, tl ere w'as 
 not ' a respect to all God's commands.' I had not 3'et a 
 sight of the beauty of holiness. Nor did 1, in my heart, 
 approve the whole yoke of God's precepts as good and 
 desirable. It was not that I delighted in holmess and 
 conformity to the law, at least m some instances, but that 
 I was undone without it, that made me aim at any sort 
 of compliance. I yet sought righteousness, as it were, by 
 the works of the law. I was wholly legal in all I did, 
 not seeing the necessity'-, the security, the glory of the 
 gospel method of salvation, by seeking righteousness and 
 strength in the Lord Christ alone. Self was the spring 
 of all. My only aim was to be saved without ^ny regard 
 to the glory of the Lord, or any inquiry how it might be 
 
110 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 consistent with it to save one, who had so deeply offended. 
 In ^ word, all my religion was constrained, violent, selfish, 
 legal and anti-evangelical These, not to mention other 
 things, were still wrong. 
 
 Wlien I had studied philosophy three years, I was 
 charmed with it and somewhat pufled up with what pro- 
 gress I had made, and designed and expected to make; 
 though I must own, that still, as knowledge increased, 
 self-conceit increased, and I apprehended I knew more 
 the first year than ever I thought I knew afterwards. 
 Being thus prepared, I designed to go abroad and improve 
 m^'sclf farther, to which I also w\as advised; but two 
 things br.ike this project; my mother would not consent, 
 and ill the second place, having been brought into bond- 
 age through fear of death, I was afraid to incur the 
 hazarils I must run of my life, so long as I was in so un- 
 settled a state as to my soul's condition ; wherefore, upon 
 the motion of some friends, I consented rather to engage 
 as chaplain to a family for some time. 
 
 Accordingly, August 1690, I went to the Wemyss 
 family. I came as a stranger amongst strangers, and 
 persons of considerable quality, and by my natural diffi- 
 dence, the censoriousness of my auditors, the publicity of 
 the appearances I was obliged to make, to which I had 
 not been accustomed, I was for a time, in very great 
 diflSculiy. I was forced to retiredness, and to petition for 
 help how to behave; and though it was my own, not the 
 Lord's honor which I designed, and was concerned for, 
 yet. He that heard the cry of the ravens, and would not 
 overlook Ahab's humiliation, or the Ninevites' repentance, 
 did not fail me in my straits, but helped, so far as it was 
 necessary, to maintain the respect due to the station I was 
 in. and to obtain kindness. 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. Ill 
 
 I had not long been here, when I \vas often necessarily 
 and frequently without sufficient necessity, engaged in 
 debates about the tmth of religion, the divinity of the 
 Scriptures, and the most important doctrines delivered in 
 them, whereby I was drawn to read the writingF of deists 
 and other enemies to religion, that 1 iriight be acquainted 
 with the arguments whereby those 1 scrLeiirreshj d occa- 
 sion to dispute with, opposed the truth. As to the issue 
 of these arguings, with respect to otheis, I shall here 
 waive it, because others are concerned in it ; only I may 
 say, I found it true, that 'foolish questions and genealo- 
 gies and contentions and strivings about the law are un- 
 profitable and vain.' 
 
 This was of a very dangerous consequence to me, and 
 could not prove otherwise to one in my case, for, I 
 was not rooted and grounded in the truth, being neither 
 instructed in the grounds whereon the Scripture is re- 
 ceived, nor acquainted practically with its power, and so 
 1 was destitute of that 'armor of light,' which is neces- 
 sary in a conflict with such enemies. The power of that 
 enmity and darkness, which inclines the vain mind of 
 man to reject and cavil at the truths of God as foolish- 
 ness, still remained unsubdued ; I was, as the children 
 who arc tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine. The 
 objections I found started were many; they struck at the 
 foundations, were new and surprising to one who was so 
 unsettled, and were dressed up by the 'sleight and cun- 
 ning craftiness of them who lie in wait to deceive.' I 
 was not acquainted with that watchfulness, vigilance, 
 and humble sobriety which was necessary to prevent 
 Satan's gaining any advantage. Whereupon, Satan 
 finding so fair an occasion, would not lose it ; for he 
 goeth about, seeking such seasons ; and finding things thus 
 he improved it to my great disquietude. 
 
112 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 The adversary finding all things thus prepared, 
 attacked me furiously, and employed many against me. 
 He wrought up the natural atheism, darkness, and enmity 
 of my heart, to vent itself against the truths of religion in 
 foolish inquiries. Is it so? ' How can these things be?' 
 and what authority hast thou, since thou rcquirest such 
 things? The mystery of the gospel was particularly 
 represented as foolishness, as setting up new gods, and often 
 was I led to answer, ' How can these things be ? ' 
 
 The subtle enemy who had often tempted me to high 
 thoughts of mj^self, now when he found it for his purpose, 
 urged upon me mean thoughts of myself, and pressed me 
 to a false sort of humility. He often whispered in my 
 ear, It is vain for you to expect to rid yourself of these 
 difficulties, when so many learned m.en, who have studied 
 the point with so much care, and who were far more 
 qualified to discern the truth, cannot reach satisfaction, but 
 have rejected them. ' Have any of the rulers or the Phari- 
 sees believed on him? But this people v.'ho knoweth not 
 the law, are cursed.' 
 
 By this I was brought into grievous perplexity and 
 many sad tossings. 'My tears have been my meat day 
 and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is 
 thj^God?' Still I tried wrong- courses. I attempted by 
 my ov.-n reasonings, to relieve myself. ' I thought to 
 know this.' Whpu this failed, I bought and read books 
 written about the truth of religion. This indeed, had it 
 been kept in its own place, was allowable and useful, but 
 I expected more than I had reason to look for; and as I 
 used it, this was onl}^ the fruit of unbelief, and a vain 
 course, running to Ashur, sending to Egypt. I wished 
 for visions, voices, or some extraordinary course. ' Nay, 
 but if one went unto them from the dead, they will be- 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 113 
 
 lieve.' When these failed, with the sluggard, I sat down 
 discouraged. ' The fool foldeth his hands together, and 
 eateth his own flesh.' I sometimes betook myself to 
 prayer ; but herein I did not succeed, not seeking in the 
 right way, nor to right ends. 
 
 But all these ways failed me. As to my own reason- 
 ings, they avail not against Him who esteems ' iron as 
 straw, and brass as rotten wood.' ' When I thought to 
 know it, it was too painful,' it was labor in mine eyes. 
 As for books, they not only satisfied not as to the things 
 they mentioned, but many of my scruples were such as 
 were overlooked by them, so that they proved physicians 
 of no value. As to extraordinary expectations, God justly 
 rejected them. ' They have Moses and the prophets, and 
 if they will not believe them, neither would they believe 
 though one should rise from the dead.' My sloth still 
 increased my trouble; that foolish poring fretted my 
 spirit ; ' The desire of the slothful killeth him, because his 
 hands refuse to labor.' 
 
 1 had quite sunk under the weight of this trouble, and 
 had been swallowed up of sorrow, and landed in despair, 
 if its force had not been somewhat abated by occasional 
 considerations that were, by the good hand of God, some- 
 times in one way, sometimes another, brought to my 
 mind: 1. When the hellish conclusions at which all 
 these temptations aimed, the renouncing of religion, 
 rejecting the Scriptures, &c. were urged, it was often sea- 
 sonably suggested, ' To whom shall we go? Thou hast 
 the words of eternal life.' 2. Upon a due observation of 
 those who were truly religious, I could not but look on 
 them, though their real worth I did not discern, as the 
 better part of mankind ; and the Lord created a dread in 
 my soul of conclusions that imported the charge of a lie 
 11 
 
114 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 in a matter of the greatest importance, against the better 
 part of mankind. ' If I say I will speak thus, I should 
 offend against the generation of thy children.' 3. The 
 Lord opened my eyes to see the abominable folly of those 
 who abandoned revealed religion ; not to mention the im- 
 pious lives of the generality, I saw the more sober part, 
 guilty of unaccountable folly. 4. The shining evidence 
 of the power of religion in the hves, but more especially 
 in the deaths of the martyrs, whom 1 had formerly read 
 of, assured me as to this, that there is a reality in religion, 
 when ' I was beat from all other holds.' 5. The known 
 instances of the power of religion in children in their 
 tender years, was of great use sometimes, and appeared of 
 great weight ; it checked the force of temptations that 
 drove me to doubt of the reality of religion. Thus, 'out 
 of the mouth of babes and sucklings, the Lord ordained 
 strength,' and in some measure, stilled the enemy and the 
 avenger. 6. The sensible and violent opposition I found 
 Satan making to the Scriptures in all the ways before- 
 mentioned, was often staying, and persuaded me in some 
 measure that there must be a reality in religion, and I 
 could not see what could induce him thus to oppose it, if 
 it were a cheat. ' Is Satan divided V 7. I had frequent 
 convictions; and thus finding the power and piercing 
 virtue of the word making manifest the secrets of my 
 heart, I was forced to fall down, and own God to be in it 
 of a truth. 
 
 As by these, and the like means, the force of the 
 temptation was somewhat broken, so I was encouraged to 
 several things in which I have reason to own God was 
 kind to me in holding me to them ; hereby I was engaged 
 to hold on in an attendance, with more concern in duties 
 of religion, public, private and secret ; and so ' to wait at 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 115 
 
 wisdom's door-post,' which afterwards, I found the advan- 
 tage of. I was enabled to conceal all my own straits 
 from others, who, thereby might either have been stum- 
 bled or hardened in their evil way. 1 was unwilling 
 others should know anything that might disgust them at 
 religion. In conversing with such as were shaken, 1 
 still endeavored to advocate the tmih, as if I had been 
 under no doubt about it 5 and I must own that while I 
 did so, the Lord often countenanced me, and satisfied me 
 as to what I had formerly been disquieted about. How 
 good a Master is God ! A word spoken for him is not 
 lost ; nor will he suffer the service to pass unrewarded ; a 
 heathen Cyrus must have his hire, and so must Nebu- 
 chadnezzar. 
 
 Before I leave this, I must observe some things which 
 the Lord taught me by this exercise. 1 I hereby learned 
 the vanity and danger of reasoning with Satan. When 
 I began to answer him with my own reasonings, he had 
 still great advantage; he easily evaded all my arguments, 
 and easily repelled my answers, and enforced his sugges- 
 tions : and when his suggestions were to be maintained 
 in point of arguments, he poured them forth with such 
 impudent violence, that I was not able to stand against 
 him. Our safest course is to resist, and to hold at a dis- 
 tance, to avoid communing with him. 
 
 This exercise had sundry effects upon me. 1. The 
 fears I was brought under, fixed a deeper sense of my 
 frailty in general on me. 2. Hereby the Lord withheld 
 me from my vain projects about learning. Now I was 
 far from expecting, as sometime I had done, that I feared 
 I should fall short of what was absolutely needful to my 
 own well-being, 3. Whereas I was educated with a 
 view to the ministry, now I came to see the difficulty, 
 
116 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 and repent my rash intentions, and laid down a resolution 
 to look no more that way, -unless the Lord satisfied me 
 fully about those things whereof 1 now doubted. I could 
 not, without horror, think of speaking to others what I 
 believed not myself. 4. My bondage through fear of 
 death was increased and grew stronger. 5. I was urged 
 to somewhat more of closeness in the performance of 
 duty, though I was often urged to give it over as vain, 
 yet I still resolved to hold on there. 6. I was still more 
 and more confirmed in the necessity of further evidence for 
 the truth of religion, than I either had attained or knew 
 how to attain. 
 
 All this while 1 was under sundry inconveniences that 
 increased my trouble, and gave advantage to my corrup- 
 tions. Most of the converse I had was with such as in- 
 creased my trouble. I was a companion of fools, and so 
 nigh to destruction. For, ' he that walks with wise men 
 shall be wise, but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.' 
 Again, I had no friend to whom I could, with freedom, 
 and any prospect of satisfaction, impart my mind. ' Wo 
 to him that is alone when he falleth, for he hath not an- 
 other to help him up.' Endeavors to conceal entirely my 
 concern and trouble, broke me. ' When I kept silence, my 
 bones waxed old.' I was laid aside from my studies, and 
 had no diversion, nor could I follow any ; I had heart for 
 nothing ; I could not read, excepting that sometimes I 
 read the Scriptures, or some other practical book, unless 
 when there was an intermission of my trouble : for nearly 
 a year and a half, 1 read very little, and this slothful pos- 
 ture laid me open to temptations, and made corruptions 
 grow stronger. 
 
 Hereupon my corruption took vent several ways; — 
 in vain and slothful desires ; • I desired and had not.' In 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 117 
 
 foolish contrivances, to obtain peace : ' I communed with 
 my own heart upon my bed, and my spirit made diligent 
 search,' but without a due eye to the Lord. I spent my 
 time in foolish complaints that dispirited me ; 'I com- 
 plained, and my spirit was overwhelmed.' 1 was some- 
 times about to curse the day of my birth, wishing that I 
 had never been born, or that I had died as soon as born. 
 I wished often that I had been in other circumstances, 
 and that I had been bred to the plough, or some such em- 
 ployment, and that I might have in the desert a cottage, 
 * A place of way-faring men,' where I might give myself 
 to continual grief My spirit sometimes rose in rebelhon 
 against God. • I thought on God and was troubled.' I 
 said, w^herefore do 'I cry and thou dost not hear me?' 
 And frequently I was not far from saying, ' Wilt thou be 
 altogether to me as a liar and as waters that fail ?' 
 
 After 1 had thus wearied myself, after the edge and 
 violence of the temptations above mentioned, were by the 
 formerly narrated considerations, blunted and somewhat 
 broke, rather than removed, and relieved by Satan's de- 
 parture for a season, I inclined to rest ; and Satan, hereon 
 finding matters prepared for an assault, made fresh at- 
 tempts in another, and disquieting manner. 
 
 The devil cannot be at rest, when he hath no mischief 
 to do to men. The devil so leaveth none but he will be 
 attempting to come unto them again, and he ordinarily 
 succeedeth, where Christ hath not prepossessed the soul ; 
 all other reformation proves but a sweeping and a gar- 
 nishing, while the soul is empty of Christ ; it may be 
 swept from the filth of flagitious sins, and garnished with 
 the paint of religion, or some habits of moral virtue, but 
 none of these will keep out the devil. Thus I found it 
 to my cost ; for Satan, finding my soul, after all my sad 
 •11 
 
118 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 tossings, empty of Christ, returned. And my soul being 
 like the vineyard of the sluggard, by sloth defenceless, 
 without stone-wall, he easily found opportunity to sow 
 tares, and while I slept, to cultivate the thorns and nettles 
 which naturally grow there. It was no hard matter to 
 persuade one, wearied as I was, that rest was good, and 
 that there was a lion in the way. And having thus pos- 
 session, and quiet abode with his ' seven other spirits,' my 
 own corruptions, he quickly made my last state worse 
 than my first. My enemies grew strong and lively ; my 
 corruptions began vigorously to exert themselves. 
 
 Hereon the Lord, minding his own work, brought the 
 ministry of the word, the law in its spiritual meaning 
 nearer. And then, ' sin revived, and I died.' I found, 
 more discernibly the stirrings of corruptions. Yea, sin, 
 taking ' occasion from the commandment,' and being fret- 
 ted by the light let into my soul from the word, ' wrought 
 in me all manner of concupiscence,' Lusts of all sorts, self, 
 sloth, formality, &g. strove to maintain their own place. 
 I was plunged into deeper guilt, 'my iniquities went over 
 my head,' my challenges were sharpened, and I found 
 ' no rest in my bones,' for sins that I had done. 
 
 I set apart time for fasting and prayer in secret ; and 
 November 23, 1697, on a time set apart for prayer, I drew 
 up a short account of my treacherous dealings with God, 
 from my youth up, and solemnly bound myself to God, to 
 walk in his ways ; and when my own heart told me, that 
 I could not serve the Lord, I said, ' Nay, but I will serve 
 the Lord ! ' 
 
 Though hitherto, I failed of a right issue, yet I was 
 carried a great length in compliance with convictions. 
 I kept myself from open pollutions, I was careful in du- 
 ties of worship : yea, further, I was much in retirement ; I 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. Il9 
 
 received the word with joy. I was often challenged fo. 
 secret pride, unbelief, and other spiritual evils, and, as to 
 the knowledge of them, was considerably enlightened. 
 I fasted, prayed, mourned in secret. I resolved and 
 strove against sin, even my peculiar sins that I loved best. 
 Thus I had with others a name to live, and took up a 
 form of religion. Yet for all this, 1 was a stranger to its 
 power, v^hich the following evidences sufficiently mani- 
 fest : for whatever lengths I went, yet, I was a stranger 
 to the glorious and blessed relief, through the imputation 
 of the righteousness of Christ; not that I had not 
 some notions of this, for I professed to embrace it ; but 
 really I was in the dark, as to its glorious efficacy, ten- 
 dency and design. I was ignorant of the ' righteousness 
 of God,' all the while. Still, in all this, the eye was not 
 single. It was only the saving of myself without any 
 eye to God's glory, that I designed. It was still by some 
 righteousness of my own, in whole or part, that 1 sought 
 relief. No wonder peace was unstable that stood on so 
 weak a foundation. Though I was by the force of con- 
 victions, brought to part with my beloved sins, or consent 
 to their destruction, yet, it was neither without reluctance, 
 nor without some secret reserve. It was like Pharaoh's 
 consent in the like case, when his servants persuaded him 
 of the danger of his persisting in his sin. Moses and 
 Aaron were brought back again to Pharaoh: and he 
 said unto them, ' Go serve the Lord your God. But who 
 are they that shall go?' My heart was utterly averse 
 from spirituality. Sometimes, through the force of con- 
 victions, I was, indeed, brought for some time to aim at 
 getting my mind fixed upon heavenly things, and kept 
 on the thoughts of them ; but my heart being yet carnal, 
 I grew weary of this bent, and of this forcible religion, 
 
120 THOMAS HALLIBURTON, 
 
 and it was intolerable to think of being always spiritual. 
 ' The carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not 
 subject to his law, neither indeed can be.' 
 
 By these means, I was at last, brought to an extremity, 
 for, ' My sins were set in order before me.' They were 
 set in order in the dreadfulness of their nature and aggra- 
 vations, and all shifts, extenuations, pleas, and defences 
 were rejected, and my mouih stopped before God. All 
 the vain ways I had taken for my relief, baffled my ex- 
 pectations, and increased my pain ; they were the staff of 
 a broken reed, they pierced my arm when I essayed to 
 lean on them, and I was ashamed, and even confounded, 
 that I had hoped. The wrath of God was dropped into 
 my soul, and the poison of his arrows drank up my spirits. 
 I was as yet, unsanctified as to ♦he truths of religion, and 
 mme enemies often told me, that even in God there was 
 no succor for me. Yea, at some times, Satan, to entangle 
 me more, assaulted the truths of religion, at once, and 
 I was dreadfully confounded, when the Lord commanded 
 that mine should be round about me. And * they com- 
 passed me about like bees.' All the means which I took 
 to subdue down my corruptions, proved of no avail, for 
 sin revived and I died ; yea, taking occasion by the com- 
 mandment, it slew me. 
 
 By the extremity of this anguish, I was for some time 
 about the close of 1697, and beginning of 1698, dread- 
 fully cast down. I was weary of my life. Often did I 
 use Job's words: 'I loathe it, I would not live always.' 
 And yet, I was afraid to die; I had no rest. At night I 
 wished for day, and in the day I wished for night. I 
 said, ' my couch shall comfort me.' But then darkness 
 was as the shadow of death. When I was in this case, 
 * I was often at the brink of despair.' ' He filled me with 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURtOX. 121 
 
 bitterness : he made rae drunk with wormwood.' I was 
 made to fear that the Lord would make me a terror 
 to myself, and all round about; and that he would 
 make some dreadful discovery of my wickedness, 
 that would make me a reproach to reUgion, and give 
 the enemies advantage, which led me to pray, ' De- 
 liver me from all my transgressions, make me not the re- 
 proach of the foolish.' I was made to wonder that I was 
 not already cut off. And indeed I was sometime reviving, 
 
 • It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, be- 
 cause his compassions fail not.' This I recall to my 
 mind, ' therefore have I hope.' But this hope was easily 
 clouded : it amounted to no more than this, Who can tell 
 but he may be gracious ? And to this, my fearful heart 
 suggested the greatness of my sins as what were above 
 the reach of pardoning mercy. And Satan daily urged 
 me to give over, and take some desperate course, to say, 
 
 * There is no hope.' Thus weary of my disease, and 
 weary of the vain courses I had taken for relief, and un- 
 certain what course to take, I took counsel in my soul 
 ha\nng sorrow in my heart daily. 
 
 If this extremity had lasted much longer, my soul had 
 sunk under the weight of it ; and even while I was in 
 this case, had rained me, if the Lord had not timely sup- 
 ported me in the greatest extremity, and, as it were, held 
 me by the hand. When I had destroyed myself, he let 
 me see help in him. 
 
 I cannot be very positive about the day or hour .of this 
 deliverance, nor can I answer many other questions about 
 the manner of it. But this is of no consequence if the 
 work is in substance sound. ' For the wind bloweth 
 where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but 
 thou canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth ] 
 
122 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 30 is every one that is born of the Spirit.' Many things 
 about the way and manner we may be ignorant of, while 
 we are sufficiently sure of the effects. As to these thinga 
 I must say with the blind man, ' I know not; one thing 
 1 know, that Whereas I was bhnd, now I see.' 
 
 However, it was towards the close of January, or the 
 beginning of February 1698, that this seasonable relief 
 came ; and, so far as I can remember, I was at secret 
 prayer, in very great extremity, not far from despair, when 
 the Lord seasonably interposed and gave this merciful 
 turn to affairs ; • When I said my foot slippeth, thy mercy 
 held me up.' And when there was nonelo save, then his 
 own arm brought salvation. ' God, who commanded the 
 light to shine out of darkness,' shined into my mind, ' to 
 give the light of the knowledge of his glory in the face of 
 Jesus Christ.' 
 
 That which yielded me this relief, was a discovery of 
 the Lord, as manifested in the word. He said to me, 
 ' Thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help.' 
 Now, the Lord discovered, in the manner afterwards to 
 be mentioned, several things which I shall here take no- 
 tice of: He let me see that there are forgivenesses with 
 him ; that with him there is mercy and plenteous redemp- 
 tion. He brought me from Sinai, and its thunderings, to 
 ' Mount Zion, and to the Mediator of the new covenant, 
 and to the blood of sprinkling, that cleanseth from all 
 sin, and speaks better things than the blood of Abel.' 
 He revealed Christ in his glory. I now, with wonder, 
 • beheld his glory, as the glory of the only begotten of the 
 Father, full of grace and truth.' And I was hereon made 
 to say, • Thou art fairer than the sons of men.' He let 
 me see that He who had before rejected all that I could 
 offer, was well pleased in the Beloved.' I was further 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 123 
 
 fully satisfied, that, not only there was forgiveness of sins, 
 and justification by free grace, ' through the redennption 
 that is in Christ Jesus: whom God hath set forth to be 
 a propitiation, through faith in his blood, to declare his 
 righteousness, for the remission of sins that are past, 
 through the forbearance of God,' but, moreover, I saw 
 with wonder and delight, in some measure, how God, by 
 this means, might be just in justifying even the ungodly 
 who believe in Jesus. How was I ravished with delight 
 when made to see, that the God in whom a little before, I 
 thought there was no help for me ; notwithstanding his 
 spotless purity, his deep hatred of sin, his inflexible jus- 
 tice and righteousness, and his unfailing faithfulness, 
 pledged in the threatenings of the law, might not only 
 pardon, but, without prejudice to his justice or other attri- 
 butes, be just in justifying even the ungodly ! The rec- 
 onciliation of those seemingly inconsistent attributes with 
 one another, and the sinnei-'s salvation, quite surprised 
 and astonished me. The Lord further opened the gospel 
 call to me, and let me see, that to me even to me, was 
 ' the word of this salvation sent.' All this was offered 
 to me, and I was invited secretly to come, and ' take of 
 the water of life freely,' and to come in my distress unto 
 this blessed rest. ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and 
 are heavy laden, and 1 will give you rest.' He, to my 
 great satisfaction, gave me a pleasant discovery of his de- 
 sign in the whole, that it was that no flesh might glory 
 in his sight ; but that he who glories, should have occca- 
 sion only to glory in the Lord, that he might manifest 
 the riches of his grace, and be exalted in showing mercy; 
 and that we, in the end, might be saved * to the praise of 
 the glory of his grace, who made us accepted in the Be- 
 loved.' The Lord revealed to my soul that full and suit- 
 
124 THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 
 
 able provision made in this way, against the power of sin, 
 that, as there is righteousness in him, so there is strength, 
 even everlasting strength, in the Lord Jehovah, to secure 
 against all enemies ; aivl that in him there is sweet pro- 
 vision made against the guilt of sins, through the power 
 of temptation, his people may be entangled in. ' These 
 things write I unto you, that ye sin not. But if any man 
 sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, 
 the righteous ; and he is the propitiation for our sins ; and 
 not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.' 
 When this strange discovery was made of a relief, where- 
 in full provisions were made for all the concerns of God's 
 glory, and my salvation in subordination thereto, my soul 
 was, by a glorious and sweet power, carried out to rest in 
 it, as worthy of God and every way suitable and satisfy- 
 ing in my case. ' They that know his name, will put 
 their trust in him.' " 
 
 It is with much reluctance, that we pass over entirely, 
 for want of room, the subsequent experience of this emi- 
 nent servant of Christ. Hardly any thing of the kind, so 
 deep, so scriptural, so discriminating, has ever fallen un- 
 der our observation. Very few Christians, certainly, have 
 ever studied the anatomy of the heart with so much suc- 
 cess, or succeeded so well in laying open its secret work- 
 ings, under the awakening, renewing and sanctifying in- 
 fluence of the Spirit. But the leading object of this vol- 
 ume is to delineate the prominent features of genuine 
 conviction and conversion, which, as they appear in the 
 case of Halliburton, has been done in the preceding pages, 
 we shall hasten to a close. 
 
 He was licensed to preach in June, 1699, and ordained 
 at Ceres, in May, 1700, where he continued in the faithful 
 
THOMAS HALLIBURTON. 125 
 
 discharge of the duties of the ministry, till 1710, when he 
 left his charge, and was installed Professor of Divinity, 
 in the University of St. Andrews. Much was expected 
 from his talents, learning and p\eiy, in that important of- 
 fice; but his health soon failed, and he departed to re- 
 ceive the rewards of a good and faithful servant, (as it is 
 confidently believed,) on the morning of Sept. 22d, 17i2, 
 in the 38th year of his age. 
 
 12 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 REV. GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 THE CHANGE, OR THE DISSOLUTE VAGABOND RENEWED. 
 
 The subject of the following narrative was an extra- 
 ordinary instance of the sovereignty and power of divine 
 grace. Though respectably descended, yet the earlier 
 part of his life was disgraced by sins of great enormity ; 
 and, but for the interposing hand of God, he would have 
 precipitated himself early into the gulf of perdition. He 
 was rescued from ruin and made the partaker of divine 
 mercy. He became a preacher of the faith to which he 
 had been inveterately opposed ; and his life furnishes a 
 striking instance of " grace abounding to the chief of 
 
 His early character and history. 
 
 He was born in Exeter, England, Oct. 25, 1631. His 
 friends, though respectable and upright, were decided 
 enemies to the Puritans, and, it is feared, to serious and 
 personal religion. They trained up their son to entertain 
 some respect for the word, the day, and the house of God, 
 
128 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 but beyond this, they do not appear to have advanced in 
 imparting religious instruction. 
 
 He was placed at an early age in the gramiTJar school 
 of his native city. He made rapid proficiency in learn- 
 ing, and exceeded all his companions in literary attain- 
 ments. He left school in his fifteenth year with the 
 intention of entering on the more active duties of life. 
 His conduct during his pupilage, was respectful, courte- 
 ous, and moral ; hut he was totally unacquainted with 
 the nature of real religion; he lived in the neglect of 
 secret prayer, and cherished a decided antipathy against 
 all, who were denominated Puritans. Nothing appears 
 to have afforded him greater amusement than to sing the 
 ribald songs that were written against them. 
 
 His father died while he was young; and desirous 
 that his son should follow his profession, he bequeathed to 
 him his valuable legal lihvary. To the law, however, 
 George had no inclination. He was desirous of being a 
 merchant; and with this desire, his mother, who was 
 the daughter of a merchant who had amassed great 
 wealth in mercantile pursuits, heartily concurred. Feel- 
 ing no concern for the spiritual and immortal welfare of 
 her child, she was only anxions that he might engage in 
 that profession which would the most certainly and 
 readily procure a fortune. On leaving school, therefore, 
 it was determjned that he should go to France to acquire 
 the language, and to gain a more extensive acquaintance 
 with the world, as preparatory to his entering on a mer- 
 cantile life. He observes, " Hence I. may date the begin- 
 ning and occasion of my after sins and calamities ; for 
 going abroad into a tempting world, with a blind mind, 
 a foolish fancy, and a graceless heart, without anj^ con- 
 siderable experience of human affairs, I was easily led 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 129 
 
 into great sins, and dangerous snares, and so laid myself 
 open to very great evils of several kinds, as you will more 
 fully understand by what follows ; which I the rather 
 choose to relate, that I may warn others from venturing 
 upon the like temptations, and to caution parents against 
 indulging their children's unreasonable inclinations." 
 
 At the early age of fifteen, destitute of religious princi- 
 ple, and without parental control, he left England, and 
 sailed for Morlaix m France. In that towm he resided 
 for a time, and prosecuted his studies. He then removed 
 to Pontive, and lodged with a French Protestant minis- 
 ter, under whose tuition, and by his own application, he 
 became a thorough proficient in the language. But 
 placed in a country where superstition and impiety gener- 
 ally prevailed, where morality was disregarded, and the 
 Sabbath openly profaned: the evil propensities of his 
 nature had full and unrestrained exercise. He ran after 
 every kind of folly, and addicted himself to every species 
 of vice ; and, though occasionally experiencing remorse 
 of conscience, and forming resolutions of amendment; 
 he still persisted in his vicious course during the whole 
 of his residence in that country. While at Pontive, he 
 was severely afflicted with the ague, which lasted about 
 nine weeks, and brought him to the borders of the grave. 
 "And yet," he writes in a review of his life, "notwith- 
 standing this rebuke of Providence, I never thought 
 seriously of God, sin, or death ; judgment, heaven, or 
 hell ; but behaved myself like a brute under all." 
 
 It pleased God to remove this afHiction, but he did not 
 profit by it. He speedily resumed his old courses, and 
 with greater avidity, sought after his old vices. He be- 
 came proud, passionate, and revengeful ; and on one oc- 
 casion, in a fit of rage through some imaginary provoca- 
 *12 
 
130 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 tion, he attempted to stab one of his companions in study 
 and in vice, 
 
 A melancholy and fatal accident befel the minister 
 with whom he resided. He had been dangerously ill, 
 but on recovering, went out of his apartment one Lord's 
 day to examine some repairs that were going on in a remote 
 part of the house, when unexpectedly, a part of the building 
 fell upon him. i e was precipitated to the ground, and 
 was taken up nearly lifeless. He lingered a few moments 
 after being extricated from the ruins, and then expired. 
 This event produced a considerable sensation in the town, 
 and was considered bv some as a direct judgment against 
 M. Rasmet for his Sabbath profanation, and for his 
 heretical notions as a Protestant. On yonng Trosse's 
 mind, the melancholy event appears to have produced no 
 salutary impression. He became more riotous than ever, 
 and conducted himself with most unbecoming levity 
 and insolence towards the afflicted widow and her 
 family. 
 
 He short Ij'" afterwards left Pontive, and returned to 
 Morlaix. There he continued about nine months longer, 
 pursuing, with intense and increasing etigerness, his 
 career of thoughtlessness, extravagance, and folly. He 
 observes, "Many times I drank to excess ; but when I 
 came again to myself, and reflected soberly upon what"! 
 had done, I was greatly ashamed, and di?pl(ased with 
 myself; looking upon it as an unreasonable and disgrace- 
 ful sin, v/hich exposed me to the censure and derision of 
 men ; but did not consider that it laid me open to the 
 wrath of God. After I had thus exposed mj'self by such 
 miscarriages, T took up resolutions, and made vows, to 
 leave them for the future. But all these having been made 
 without any sense of God at all, by the direction, in the 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 131 
 
 Strength, and for the ends of carnal self, they were soon 
 forgotten and contradicted." 
 
 It is an affecting consideration, that a youth of such 
 respectability, talents, and property, should thus debase 
 his character, and press onwards in the way to destruc- 
 tion ; but when his age, his utter destitution of religion, 
 his abundant resources, his entire freedom from parental 
 restraint, or even the control of guardians or friends, are 
 taken into account, his conduct will occasion no surprise 
 to those who are acquainted with the deceitfulness of 
 their own hearts. Justly does Mr. Trosse remark in his 
 reflections, " that where there is much money, little wit, 
 no religion, a vicious mind, and no reprover, a person is 
 exposed to tremendous evils, and extravagant follies." 
 And from his own experience, he adds, " I wish all par- 
 ents, as they love the souls of their children, and value 
 their own comfort, would not suffer their children to go 
 beyond the sea till they have some ground to believe 
 that the root of grace is in them, and so God engaged 
 with them for their preservation ; or else, that they would 
 comimit them to some strictly holy or religious person 
 there, who would faithfully discharge his duty to their 
 souls." 
 
 The time for young Trosse's return at length arrived : 
 and, after indulging himself in his favorite vice of drunk- 
 enness, he embarked, and in due time, reached his native 
 land. His career of folly had involved him in expenses 
 far exceeding the bounds of what even he considered pru- 
 dence; and on rendering an account to his mother, as a 
 cover to his prodigality, he invented and persisted in tell- 
 ing most notorious falsehoods. These falsehoods could 
 not be disproved, and thus he succeeded in deceiving his 
 mother, but it was at the sacrifice of his conscience, and 
 the expense of his happiness. 
 
132 OiEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 He was now seventeen years of age, residing with his 
 only and affectionate parent, without employment, and 
 pursuing only folly and vice. The habits he had ac- 
 quired on the continent, he could not relinquish at home. 
 He had become hardened in sm, " accustomed to do evil," 
 lie would not " learn to do well." At length he decided 
 on entering the merchants' service, and it was resolved, 
 accordingl3% by his mother and friends, that he should be 
 apprenticed to some " merchant beyond the seas," as the 
 most successful method of accomplishing their united 
 wishes. He went to London to visit a relation, bj'^ whom 
 he was introduced to a Portuguese merchant, whose in- 
 terest was solicited in order to procure a situation for him 
 in Portugal. In this merchant's family he resided pre- 
 viously to his leaving England. His stay was protracted 
 in London for three months. During this period he was 
 absorbed in indolence or intoxication, gambling or wan- 
 tonness. And his hatred against pure and undefiled 
 religion appeared to increase with his wickedness. The 
 time for his departure however arrived : and after indulg- 
 ing in an excess of sinful pleasures, he embarked at 
 Gravesend, and sailed to Oporto. He reached the " de- 
 sired haven," in perfect safety, and took up his residence 
 with an English merchant in that port. Here the inter- 
 vals of business were occupied with the vices of the coun- 
 try. His Sabbaths were profaned, being spent in the tav- 
 erns, at the billiard-tables, or in water excursions. The 
 Bible and religious books were neglected and despised ; 
 in fact, few such books could be introduced into Portugal. 
 When a ship arrived at port from a Protestant country, 
 the inquisitors went on board, and seized all Bibles, all 
 devotional and practical books, placed and sealed them 
 up in bags, and carried them away to their convents, 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 166 
 
 There they were detained till the ship was ready to sail, 
 when the}^ were again delivered to the captain. Indeed, 
 religious toleration was not allowed in any shape what- 
 ever to foreigners. Cromwell, during the protectorate, 
 however, interposed his authority, and compelled the 
 Portuguese to allow liberty of conscience, a,nd freedom of 
 worship to British subjects. 
 
 This restraint on their religious liberty, does not appear 
 to have greatly aifected the merchants in general. Busi- 
 ness and pleasure were the sole objects of their pursuits ; 
 the mammon of v/ealth or folly was the idol which they 
 worshipped. Young Trosse entered fully into the spirit 
 of folly and sin which prevailed in the town. Occasion- 
 ally he strolled into the Catholic chapels, where, to avoid 
 suspicion, he usually bowed his knees to their images, 
 and prentended to be engaged in their worship. With 
 this merchant he continued more than two years ; when, 
 owing to a dispute between his friends in London, and 
 his master, he was obliged to quit his service, and com- 
 pelled even to pay for his expenses during 'the time he 
 had lived in his house. He left Oporto and proceeded in 
 company with others to Lisbon, where he continued three 
 months. Here his moral principles were repeatedly put 
 to the test, and he was found wanting. He yielded to 
 the force of every inclination, and lived in the indulgence 
 of his unbridled passions. His Protestanism was severely 
 tried by a fascinating temptation to embrace popery, and 
 to enter the convent of Jesuits in that city ; but against 
 this temptation, he was proof The religion of popery he 
 detested ; while all the carnal indulgences allowed and 
 practiced under that sj'stem he eagerly embraced and 
 pursued. 
 
 The ship in which he was to be conveyed to England, 
 
134 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 was now ready to sail. He embarked, and as he says, 
 " after two years and three quarters abode in Portugal, 
 living in atheism, ignorance, profancness, and debauch- 
 ery, he left it and sailed for his native country." In his 
 reflections, written after his conversion, he says, " For 
 rnany years since, every day upon my knees, have I been 
 blessing and giving thanks to a wise and gracious God 
 for bringing me from thence, and not permitting me to 
 live any longer there. I might, had I attained my own 
 and friends' design, have spent manj^ more there, and 
 might have gotten a great deal of treasure, and at length 
 miffht have returned with abundance of wealth and a 
 flourishing estate ; but then, I should have lived without 
 God, and against him, and all that time have continually 
 increased my guilt and my misery, and brought home 
 infinitely more curses on my person, than of coin to en- 
 rich me. I should in that case have returned with a 
 heart full of pride and lust, and fuel to have fed them all 
 my days. But blessed be God that 1 tarried not there a 
 day longer than did. 1 would not now live there one 
 day, as I then lived months and 3'ears, for all the riches 
 of Portugal." 
 
 The passage to England, was storm.y and dangerous; 
 and instead of proceeding to London, the place of her 
 destination, the vessel was obliged to put in at Plymouth. 
 He observes, " Thus again the providence of God 
 brought me safely to my own country ; from a foreign 
 nation into Immanuel's land ; from anti-christian territo- 
 ries, to a land where the gospel is printed in our own lan- 
 guage, and orthodoxly preached ; where God alone is the 
 object of worship, and the Lord Christ applied to as the 
 only Mediator, and where we are plainly directed in the 
 way to heaveq," 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 135 
 
 When he landed, he proceeded to his old habits of 
 inebriety. The following- day was the Sabbath He 
 attended public worship which he had neglected for three 
 years ; but he felt no interest in the service, nor offered 
 thanksgiving for his preservation, during his absence or 
 his voj'age. The remainder of the day he profaned, and 
 closed it with intemperance. On the following morning 
 he set out on horseback for Exeter, but being in a state 
 of complete intoxication, he could not long retain his seat. 
 He fell from his horse, and w^as taken up as dead, but he 
 received no injury, and arrived safely at his mothei-'s 
 residence, after three years' absence. 
 
 The Change. 
 
 The next six years of his life were spent at home in 
 ease and leisure. He followed no avocation, and directed 
 his mind to no pursuits but those of folly and sin. Pro- 
 fanity, contempt of God, and his holy word, together with 
 offences of flagrant enormit}^, marked his conduct through- 
 out this period. His hatred to religion was manifest. 
 Prayer was neglected and despised. The Bible was 
 never consulted, except to pervert its meaning to some 
 unhaliow^ed purpose. His hard drinking brought on him 
 dangerous maladies, from which he was mercifully re- 
 stored ; but the providence of God was never acknowl- 
 edged, nor the divine forbearance adored. One remarka- 
 ble instance of the divine goodness, and his ingratitude, 
 may be noticed. " Once when I had greatl}^ besotted 
 myself by an excess of drinking, I rode into the C(iuntry, 
 and fell from my horse, near the gallows, about two miles 
 from our city ; which yet I did not at all remember, but was 
 reminded of it by one who saw me lie there like a swine. 
 
136 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 Yet I considered not the danger of this fall, nor the cir- 
 cumstances of the place, although my mother had some 
 time before, related a story to me, of a sword bearer of the 
 city of Exeter, who, riding that way with a design to 
 poison his wife, by Providence was flung off his horse 
 just by the gallows, which the obstinate wretch refusing 
 to consider, rode on, and executed his design. Upon the 
 discovery of this barbarous deed, he was prosecuted, and 
 at length executed, upon that very gallows, where he 
 owned that Providence punished his wilful obstinacy in not 
 having taken the warning, and desisted fiom his bloody 
 purpose." 
 
 The Sabbath was usually spent in the total neglect of 
 divine worship, and in the practice of his vices. If ever 
 he attended divine service, he owns that he profaned it. 
 " I considered not God as the solemn object of devotions, 
 and had no due regard to the manner in which they 
 ought to have been performed ; and sometimes, in the 
 very height of my drunkenness and lust, I engaged in 
 them." His dissipation involved him in pecuniary em- 
 barrassments, so that he was obliged to sell his interest in 
 a house left him b}- his father, in order to pay his "debts 
 of honor," as they are falsely called, and to cover his ex- 
 travagant expenses. 
 
 He confesses that he had, in fact, sinned against the 
 entire moral law, and had so hardened himself in sin, that 
 he was disposed to have continued in this condition and 
 course to the end of his days. 'Satan's cursed work,' 
 says he ' 1 loved and delighted in. He was my master, 
 as a tempter to sin, and a promoter of it. And no doubt 
 experienced Christians have concluded, that if ever God 
 ehould bring home such a sinner to himself, it would be 
 by dreadful horrors and terrors, by the most stinging re- 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 137 
 
 morse and the most piercing anguish ; which, at last, fell 
 
 out accordingly.' 
 
 He was now approaching a crisis in his history. He 
 found by wofal experience, though he lamented it not, 
 that the way of transgressors is hard. His health was 
 impaired by dissipation, and his mental faculties began to 
 lose their tone and vigor, through the excessive quantity 
 of stimulating liquors introduced into his system. It 
 needed only some particularly exciting circumstances to 
 destroy the balance of his mental powers, and to reduce 
 him to a state of insanity. And the probability of such 
 a catastrophe was not the less unlikely, insomuch as he 
 was occasionally the subject of vivid and alarming appre- 
 hensions of futurity, and of goading compunctions of con- 
 science. 
 
 An event now took place, which was a source of inex- 
 pressible misery, as it was the occasion of throwing him 
 into a state of deplorable, and, for some time, incurable 
 madness. 
 
 He rode with his mother one morning, to a retired vil- 
 lage in a valley, about twelve miles from Exeter. -The 
 next morning, contrary to the wishes of his mother, he 
 returned home, and became bondsman for a person who 
 had been a major in the king's army, and was considered 
 to be disaffected to the government of the commonwealth. 
 All such persons were ordered by the Protector to be ar- 
 rested, and were allowed their liberty only upon good se- 
 curity. Rash, headstrong, and violent in his political 
 feelings, and inveterate in his hatred against the existing 
 crovernment, he, contrary to the solicitations of his friends, 
 and even of the sheriff, proffered bail for the major, and 
 was accepted. He spent the day in carousing, and, in a 
 state far from sober, he mounted his horse to return home. 
 13 
 
138' GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 In proceeding, he fell from his horse, but, by some means 
 or other, he regained his seat, and at length, reached his 
 mother's abode. On dismounting, he reeled into the 
 kitchen, asked his mothers' blessing, and being unable to 
 stand, from the effects of drinking, was carried to bed. 
 The servant asked him if he was not afraid to be alone ; 
 he replied, ' I do not fear all the devils in hell, and can go 
 and lie anywhere, at any time.' He slept soundly all 
 night ; but in the morning, when he began to reflect on 
 his folly in becoming surety for the major, he became 
 greatly distressed and vexed. This mortification, togeth- 
 er with the effects of the liquor, and his fall on the pre- 
 ceding day, threw him into a state of confusion and de- 
 lirium, which at length terminated in total derangement. 
 
 His thoughts, now uncontrolled by reason, were vari- 
 ous and distressing, and, as not unfrequently happens, in 
 cases of insanity, they flowed in one particular direction. 
 Religion was the constant, the only subject of his deliri- 
 ous musings. His imaginar}^ visions, his awful apprehen- 
 sions, his horrible blasphemies, and his dreadful tempta- 
 tions, are recorded with distressing minuteness in the ac- 
 count which he wrote of himself, and which it would be 
 worse than useless to detail. 
 
 There can be no doubt that the adversary of souls 
 availed himself of this opportunity to tempt and torment 
 his wretched vassal. Crafty and powerful, he adapts his 
 suggestions and temptations to the circumstances of indi- 
 viduals, and presents them at seasons when they are most 
 likely to take effect. The apostolic exhortation to sobrie- 
 ty and vigilance, is founded on the known subtlety and 
 malice of the adversary, ' who goeth about like a roaring 
 lion, seeking whom he may devour.' This was a dread- 
 ful affliction, and yet in his abberrations, Mr Trosse 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 139 
 
 would allow no means to be used for his recovery. His 
 friends, hopeless of all relie by keeping him at home, re- 
 solved on sending him to an establishment at Glastonbury, 
 devoted to the reception and cure of such unfortunate pa- 
 tients. After desperate resistance, he was at length se- 
 cured, and convej^ed to his new habitation. Here he con- 
 tinued in the same state of ' horror, delusion, and blasphe- 
 my,' and ungovernable madness, for some months. His 
 malady at last yielded to the persevering treatment of his 
 attendants, and he became tranquil and composed. The 
 matron of the establishment was a pious lady; she fre- 
 quently conversed with him on serious subjects, and was 
 the means, under the Divine blessing, of producing a 
 beneficial impression on his mind. He now directed his 
 attention to the Scriptures, and religious works, and be- 
 came very correct and serious in his general deportment. 
 He was duly restored to his friends ; but scarcely had 
 he become settled at home, before the unsubdued depravi- 
 ty of his heart again burst forth. He rejoined his old 
 companions, retraced his former steps of folly and sin, 
 and shortly became as guilty and polluted as ever. His 
 conscience was now more sensitive. He could not sin 
 with equal pleasure. He experienced some very pungent 
 convictions and alarming fears respecting the course he 
 was pursuing. He adopted various methods to soothe his 
 conscience and allay his fears, ut all were in vain. His 
 irregularities induced a relapse of his disorder, and he was 
 obliged to be conveyed again to Glastonbury. His malady 
 did not assume so violent a character, nor continue so long 
 as before; but was accompanied with similar visions, delu- 
 sions, and blasphemies. He made an attempt on his life, 
 but w^s prevented from accomplishing his purpose by the 
 promptitude o his keeper. It pleased God to restore him 
 
140 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 again to soundness of mind ; and he returned to Exeter" 
 with a firm resolution to renounce his former habits and, 
 practices, and to devote himself to the service and ways 
 of God. But his resolutions, like all those formed by 
 mankind in their own strength, were soon broken. He 
 was overcome by temptations, and relapsed into the very 
 courses which had been the occasion of his misery. Again 
 his conscience became alarmed, his mind bewildered, and 
 all the symptoms of insanity speedily returned. The 
 same measures were again resorted to by his friends, and 
 he was convej^ed a third time to Glastonbury. The jour- 
 ney thither, was one of extreme dejection and misery. 
 He threw himself from his horse, with the intention of 
 breaking his neck : but the Lord, who had designs of 
 mercy on his guilty creature, preserved him unhurt. He 
 reached his habitation, where, he says, he was again as 
 outrageous and furious, as despairing, and as desperate, as 
 formerly. 
 
 Again the divine goodness was displayed in restoring 
 him to perfect sanity. He returned home, evidently im- 
 proved in health and character. Religion, which he had 
 formerly detested, was now sought after with intense in- 
 terest. His dreadful calamities were overmled for his 
 spiritual good ; and, from this time he dates his first seri- 
 ous convictions. He at length found 'peace with God, 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ: ' and was seen like the 
 lunatic in the gospel, ' sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed 
 and in his right mind.' The direct means of his con- 
 version to God he could not specify ; but among the prin- 
 cipal instruments employed to effect that change, he reck- 
 ons the matron of the establishment at Glastonbury. She 
 embraced every opportunity, during the lucid intervals, to 
 direct his attention to the hopes and consolations of religion, 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 141 
 
 and appears to have been eminently successful. In sum- 
 ming up the account of his life to this period, he thus 
 writes: — ' I have given a brief narrative of a wicked and 
 wretched life, a life full of daring crimes, and visited with 
 dreadful judgments till I was about twenty-five years old. 
 Though God might have then justly cut me off, and cast 
 me into hell, or have left me to the power of the devil, 
 and the sway of my lusts, or have increased my torments 
 every minute of the remaining part of my continuance on 
 earth ; yet, such was his infinite goodness, and matchless 
 grace, that here a period was put to my ungodly courses, 
 but not to my days. I believe I may date my beginning 
 to seek after God, and my perseverance in that search till 
 I had found him, from this very time; for though 1 can- 
 not tell the minister or sermon whereby I was converted, 
 yet, I bless God, I can say I am what I was not; I am 
 quite contrary to what I was in the past years of my Ufe, 
 both in judgment, heart and conversation. God was 
 pleased to make use of all the terrors of my conscience, 
 those dreadful convictions, and the lively apprehensions I 
 had of the lake of fire and brimstone, to drive me from sin 
 and hell ; and, if any one was more eminently instrumen- 
 tal in my conversion than another, Mrs. Gollop, (the lady 
 before alluded to,) was the person ; I am persuaded, under 
 God, she was the prime instrument, both of the health of 
 my body and the salvation of my soul.' 
 
 Thus was this enemy of God subdued by the power of 
 divine grace, and made to rejoice in that very salvation 
 which he had so long despised. Mr. 'J'rosse's afflictions, 
 vhe natural consequences of his sins, were truly awful, 
 and prove the truth of the divine word, that it is ' an evil 
 and bitter thing to sin against God.' But they were, 
 through the infinite mercy of God, overruled and sancti 
 *13 
 
142 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 fied. He became a devoted servant of Jesus Christ, and 
 lived through a long period, to show that he was indeed 
 a 'brand plucked out of the fire,' and to testify that ' it is 
 a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
 Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,' even the 
 chief of sinners. 
 
 In the conclusion of the retrospect that Mr. Trosse took 
 of his own life, he draws the following sketch of his 
 character and history, both before and after his conver- 
 sion. 
 
 " Thus I have given an account of my ignorant, wick- 
 ed and profane life, to the time of my convictions; of my 
 deluded, blasphemous, despairing, malicious, revengeful, 
 cruel, and miserable life, with my sad and repeated relapses 
 after all, to the commencement of my sincere endeavors, as 1 
 hope, to obtain God's favor, and my walking in some meas^ 
 ure, answerable thereto. Though at best, 1 must own, I 
 came abundantly short of those returns of gratitude, love» 
 zeal, contempt of the world, self-denial, vigilance, fear, 
 diligence, and laboriousness in God's service, which my 
 convictions and engagements, my advantages and blessed 
 helps I have enjoyed, ever since I began to seek after God» 
 call for. 
 
 I acknowledge that I have sadly experienced the 
 strong workings of corruption, and have sometimes been 
 insensibly drawn into great snares and into great dan- 
 ger of foul and scandalous falls ; but, still keeping and 
 continuing at the throne of grace, God was pleased to 
 prevent my dishonoring his name, disgracing his religion, 
 scandalizing of sinners, and grieving of saints, that so I 
 mi^n^ht not be the devil's triumph, and ruin myself. Since 
 j»y corruptions, through the grace of God, could not pre- 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 143 
 
 vail upon me to give over my duty of prayer ; my prayer, 
 through the prevaihng intercession of the Mediator, hath 
 been a means to secure me from acting according to them. 
 So that now, I hope, I am more confirnsed, through di- 
 vine mercy, in my resolutions to resist and mortify than 
 ever. 
 
 Thus, for the space of about twenty-five or twenty-six 
 ■wears, I lived in a state of nature, in a course of sin and 
 follj^ ; and experienced it to be brutish, unreasonable, ru- 
 inous, and destructive to health, estate, and name, to rest 
 and reason, as well as tending to horror, despair, rage, and 
 hell. 
 
 But now, ever since, for the space of about thirty-six 
 years, blessed be God for every minute of them, I have 
 kept on steadily in the ways of God, and, notwithstand- 
 ing all oppositions from without, and more dangerous dis- 
 couragements from within, I have found them blessed, 
 honorable, and comfortable with respect to body and 
 mind, and all outward concerns, as well as to heart and 
 conscience within : so that I can sd.y from experience, if 
 ever any one could, 'that gcJdliness is profitable for all 
 things, and hath the promise of this life, as well as of 
 that to come.' So that I will say again, that I never 
 heard, or read, of a person so- strangely saved from sin 
 and hell, so wonderfully .blessed with all contrary favors 
 and mercies. 
 
 By the sins and debaucheries in my younger years I 
 very much injured my health, and impaired my constitu- 
 tion. But now, at this age, I have a great measure of 
 health and strength, sound vitals, a good stock of spirits, 
 that I can undertake and go through much studying and 
 preaching; insomuch, that many greatly wonder at the 
 bodily strength God has given me. 
 
144 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 By my follies and vices I had rendered myself a sottisb 
 and illiteraie dunce, living, about ten years, a wandering 
 and a vain life, never applying myself to the reading of 
 books, or to studying, that I might preserve that little 
 grammar-learning, I had at school, so that 1 could not 
 but, in a great measure, forget it. But now, I bless God, 
 I understand Greek and Latin, and have read many vol- 
 umes in both languages, and have looked into the origi- 
 nal of the Old Testament with good satisfaction. 
 
 Bj^ my sins and sensualities, I had brought myself into 
 horrible distractions, and perfect naadness. I was, for a 
 time, deprived of the regular use of reason, and by the 
 disturbance of my imagination, I becam.e wild and out- 
 rageous. But now, my brain is composed, my mmd calm, 
 my thoughts orderly ; I have a fancy to invent, and a 
 memory to retain what I clearly understand; 1 can well 
 remember others' sermons, and my own. I acknowledge 
 divine goodness and mercy in all. 
 
 By my profane and profligate way of living, I had 
 rendered myself the just object of good men's contempt, 
 and abhorrence. But nov/, I ihajik God, they esteem me 
 worthy of their favor and respect. 
 
 By my profaneness and exorbitant practices, I was 
 atheistical and as without God in the world ; acting con- 
 trary to all Scriptural, divine, and saving directions, and 
 this too, when considerably advanced in years. But now, 
 I am fully satisfied that I am orthodox, in the fundamen- 
 tals of faith and practices, and, 1 hope, in most of those 
 truths which are built thereon. 
 
 By my brutish and casual way of life, I had cast my- 
 self into the depths of despair and horror ; absolutely con- 
 cluding upon an impossibility of being received into God's 
 favor, or of being saved. But now, I hope I have a well- 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 145 
 
 grounded peace in my conscience, and through grace, a 
 comfortable prospect of eternal Hfe. 
 
 By my violence in sins, I had made myself so vain, 
 wild, and inconsiderate, that I v/as altogether unfit for 
 the meanest and most easy employment. But since, 
 blessed be God, I have been judged b\^ learned, orthodox, 
 and faithful ministers of Christ, to be fit and qualified for 
 the most noble and excellent, the most difficult and awful, 
 but yet the most profitable and beneficial of vocations, 
 namely, the ministerial. And, by the grace of God, I, 
 have been greatly assisted in the work thereof, and have, 
 at this day, better abilities, both of body and mind, for 
 this function, than when 1 was younger. So that God 
 hath not only turned a raging persecutor of the gospel, 
 into a preacher of it, as he did by St. Paul ; but even an 
 ignorant sot, a debauched prodigal, and in a sense a des- 
 perate devil, into a servant of Christ, owning and assisting 
 him in delivering the embassy of the blessed gospel. 
 
 By my sin and folly, I became carnally and spiritually 
 depraved in a very high degree. I deprived mj'self of all 
 common grace, sunk myself beneath the beasts that per- 
 ish, and levelled myself in effect, with the devils who 
 are damned, in their despair, rage, and enmity against 
 God, and in their malice and fury against man. But 
 now, I hope God hath given me grace ; has advanced 
 me among the excellent of the earth ; given me desires to 
 love and serve him, and glorify his name, and excited me 
 to do the same. Now, I am persuaded, T love my fellow- 
 creatures, and can heartily pmy for them, and labor to 
 assist them, in obtaining their chief good, the eternal 
 fruition of the blessed God. 
 
 By my sin and folly I had fitted myself for, and merited 
 the most grevious and intolerable of all the torments o." 
 
146 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 hell. But now, I believe God hath put me into a state 
 of grace here, hath justified and adopted me to a state of 
 glory. But how mj God will be pleased to deal by me, 
 what he will do for and upon me, in the remaining part 
 of my life, how he will dispose of me from henceforth, I 
 know not ; neither am I solicitous about that. Only if 
 he please to answer my constant prayers, and enable me 
 to act the graces, and discharge the duties of every con- 
 dition he shall think fit to put me into, then let him call 
 me to do and suffer what he judges meet ; since of men, 
 ministers, and saints, I am the most obliged to act for 
 him, or suffe from him, in compliance with his will and 
 for the promotion of his glory, of any person who hath 
 ever been in the world, the ministry, or the church. 
 
 This relation of my life was finished by me on the fif- 
 teenth day of February, A. D. 1692-3, and of mine age 
 gixty-one, and about five months. 
 
 Now to God the Father, who I hope, has from eternity 
 determ.ined grace and glory for me; to God the Son, who 
 purchased all for me, in the fullness of time, by his hu- 
 miliation, and procured all by his prevailing intercession; 
 to God the Holy Ghost, who has wrought grace, 1 would 
 hope, in me ; to this eternal, invisible, and glorious Trini- 
 ty, be glory and praise, be love and service, be adoration 
 and hallelujahs ascribed by me, by all saints and angels 
 on earth and in heaven, forever, and ever. Amen and 
 Amen." 
 
 Mr. Trosse was truly a monument of mercy : and the 
 change wrought in his life and conduct was such as to 
 strike every beholder with astonishment. Deeply did he 
 feel his obligations to divine grace ; and he was anxious, 
 therefore, to glorify God in all. his ways. Having beer^ 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 147 
 
 BO greatly blessed, " he loved much." His love to God 
 was ardent and intense. This was the principle which 
 moved and acted him in religion. He read and medita- 
 ted, and fasted and prayed, and labored and suffered, be- 
 cause he loved. The sight of God's amiable perfections 
 delighted his heart ; the sense of his love in giving the 
 Lord Jesus Christ to die for him, in regenerating and par- 
 doning him, knit his soul to God. The thoughts of God 
 were pleasant to him, and it was his meat and drink to 
 do the will of his heavenly Father. He loved all that be- 
 longed to God ; his word, his day, his worship, his peo- 
 ple. He was deeply affected with, and would often 
 speak with admiration of his distinguishing love to him in 
 his conversion. 
 
 "Thanksgiving" formed an essential part of his devo- 
 tions. Like many of his contemporaries, he appropriated 
 certain seasons to this delightful exercise. Praise is 
 one of the principal services of heaven ; and never does 
 a sinful creature bear a greater resemblance to the inhab- 
 itants of the skies, than when, in the attitude of devotion, 
 he is pouring out his heart in thanksgiving and praise to 
 the eternal God. Modern devotions are characterized 
 more by confession and petitions than by adoration and 
 praise. The guilt and necessity of our nature, indeed, re- 
 quire that we should be frequent and urgent in our sup- 
 plications, but our mercies, free, numberless, and invaluable, 
 demand as constant acknowledgements at the throne of 
 grace. Li the overwhelming sense of our need, we are 
 prone to forget our obligations for favors received. Not 
 so, however, did the ancient worthies in the Christian 
 churches. " What shall I render to the Lord for all his 
 benefits towards me?" was a question which they kept 
 ever before them, and according to which their devotions 
 
148 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 were regulated. " Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me, 
 and to him that ordereth his conversation aright, will I 
 show the salvation of God." 
 
 A record of the method in which he spent his time on 
 Sabbath is preserved. " He arose at five o'clock, prayed 
 for a blessing on his secret duties, read a psalm and chap- 
 ter, always in order, except on sacrament days, when he 
 meditated on the 22d Psalm, and the 53d chapter of 
 Isaiah, and having reflected on them, he spent the re- 
 mainder of the time, till a little after seven, in prayer. 
 Then he went down, and having refreshed himself, he 
 continued in family duties till almost nine, which was the 
 time of public worship. When he came home, he went 
 immmed lately to his chamber, without warming himself 
 in the coldest season. When he had walked a little, he 
 betook himself to his study, and continued therein prayer 
 till dinner. After that, he walked by himself, till his 
 servants had dmed. Then he prayed for a blessing and 
 repeated the sermon he had preached or heard in the fore- 
 noon ; for he would, by heart repeat other ministers' ser- 
 mons with great readiness, though he had very little time 
 to recollect himself: and having sung a psalm, he went 
 again to the house of God. At his return, he went forth- 
 with to his chamber, and, after a little while, to his study, 
 where he continued about an hour in prayer. Then he 
 supped, and afterward read in some good book. After his 
 servants had supped, he performed family duties thus: 
 He began with prayer, read half an hour by his watch, 
 in some practical book, sung part of a psalm, as he did 
 every morning and evening before prayer, and prayed 
 about three quarters of an hour. He was longer in prayer 
 and praise on the Lord's day, than on other days, for 
 which he gave this reason : because, under the law of 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 149 
 
 Moses, only one lamb was appointed to be offered in the 
 morning, and another in the evening on other days; two 
 were required on the Sabbath, to teach us to double our 
 devotions. 
 
 Thus did this servant of God spend his days, " as the 
 days of heaven " upon earth. Living, as he did, in the 
 very atmosphere of devotion, and nourished and fed by 
 the " bread of heaven," his spiritual health was maintained 
 unimpaired : and he continued to " grow in grace and in 
 the knowledge of the Redeemer ; " and found the proph- 
 et's declaration to be true, " that the Lord will be with you 
 while ye be with him." 
 
 Living in the exercise of great spiritrality of mind, Mr. 
 Trosse cared little for the " good things" of this life. He 
 derived his happiness from above, and therefore sought 
 not pleasures from earth and sense. " Temperance is one 
 of the graces of the Spirit, and equally interdicts an excess 
 of aliment whether in the solid or liquid form. Gluttony 
 is as guilty as intoxication ; its physical effects are less 
 obvious, but its moral guilt is the same. They equally 
 disqualify for the service of God, and are both chargeable 
 with an abuse of the bounties of heaven. Hence the cau- 
 tion of the Savior, " Take heed to yourselves, lest your 
 hearts at any time be overcharged with surfeiting and 
 drunkenness, and the cares of this life, and so that day 
 come upon yo i unawares." " Mr. Trosse," says his 
 biographer, " did not make provision for the flesh to fulfill 
 its lusts;" nor was he nice and curious in his diet, but 
 moderate in eating and drinking, and lost little time at it. 
 He preferred plain substantial food before that which is 
 prepared with art and trouble. He seldom took anything 
 between meals, and being short and sparing at them, was 
 the filter for study, his abstinence conducing to maintain 
 14 
 
150 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 the vigor both of his body and mind. He would not 
 drink healths, saying when he refused one, that was of- 
 fered him at a mayor's feast ; " In my j'outh, I had al- 
 most drank away the health of my body and soul; but 
 I have drank no healths for above forty years." 
 
 In his ministerial character, there is much that deserves 
 consideration. He had a powerful sense of the worth of 
 souls, which made him labor night and day, for their con- 
 version and salvation ; and, having himself been rescued 
 from everlasting destruction, almost by a miracle of mercy, 
 he thought he could never do enough to testify his grati- 
 tude to God, and his compassion to men. When he was 
 old, he did not think himself at liberty to remit his pains, 
 indulge his ease, or hide his talent; but, as a good soldier 
 of Jesus Christ, he warred a good warfare. He still 
 labored in the word and doctrine, and brought forth fruit 
 in old age. His friends often importuned him to favor 
 himself, and have respect to his age and infirmities, that 
 he might be the longer serviceable in the world. To this 
 his reply was, ' I came late into the vineyard, and must 
 work hard, and one moment in heaven will be a sufficient 
 recompense for all that I can do on earth. All his studies 
 were conducted in the spirit of devotion. He entertained 
 a salutary fear lest they should divert him too much from 
 his spiritual exercises. " My desire to endow my mind 
 with sciences and languages, and to treasure up ideas 
 and knowledge, hath been very pressing on my spirit, 
 since I came hither, not only to take my pen from paper, 
 but also my heart from prayer; not only to bind up my 
 hands from writing, but also from lifting them up to the 
 throne of grace ; and my calling to bo a scholar, hath 
 always been a great temptation to call me from being a 
 Christian. Yet I have been enabled, by grace, to keep 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 151 
 
 my religious hours, as well as my studious, and to frequent 
 the temple as well as nay study. And I know I have 
 lost nothing, but my gain is inconceivable by it. 
 
 Luther affirms, •* ti at to pray well, is to study well," 
 and Mr. Trosse says in his journal, " I have experienced 
 that the best studying is on our knees ; for I have been 
 taught more divinity on my knees, than ever I learnt by 
 orthodox writers : and, in my secret devotions, I have been 
 persuaded of, and enlightened in, such notions and truths 
 as I never before met with elsewhere." This Testimony 
 is the more valuable, as it is that of a man who was 
 assiduous in his studies, and anxious to acquire knowledge 
 from every source within his power. He was no enthu- 
 siast, but sought divine illumination and instruction in the 
 use of appointed means. 
 
 His preaching was not with the enticing words of 
 man's wisdom; nor did he, by labored periods and 
 starched language, hinder the edification of the common 
 people, and destroy their reverence of holy things. He 
 studied to show himself approved of God, a workman that 
 needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of 
 truth. His public exercises had spirit and life in them. 
 His heart was influenced with love to Christ, and with 
 ardent desires after the salvation of his hearers. And he 
 spake as one who had a mighty awe of God upon his 
 spirit ; as one whose own soul was possessed of those 
 graces which he recommended, and those afFtctions which 
 he endeavored to excite in others; as one who had no 
 other design upon his hearers, than to reform their lives, 
 and save their souls. He was skillful in explaining and 
 appljnng divine truths; and faithful, keeping back noth- 
 ing from his people which was profitable unto them. He 
 shunned not to declare unto them, all the counsel of God, 
 that he might be pure from the blood of all men. 
 
152 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 Like the holy Apostle, " he counted not his life dear to 
 him, so that he might finish his course with joy, and the 
 ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus, to tes- 
 tify the gospel of the grace of God. He shrunk not from 
 duty, even when its performance was painful and haz- 
 ardous, but relied for security and support on Him in 
 whose cause he was embarked, and whose glory he was 
 anxious to promote. Nor w^as he disappointed. His life 
 was preserved, amidst every peril, to a lengthened period. 
 He had, moreover, the satisfaction of knowing that his 
 labors both public and private, were not in vain in the 
 Lord. Success crowned his efforts; and although he had 
 not so many seals of his ministry as he w*ished, yet he 
 was blessed with more than he expected. The desires of 
 a faithful minister respecting the salvation of sinners, are 
 unbounded; his wishes comprehend the whole human 
 family. And within the limited sphere of his labors, he 
 cannot be satisfied without the conversion of all. This 
 privilege is granted to no man : but such is the expansive 
 benevolence of the gospel, that it allows none of its faith- 
 ful heralds to be contented, till the common salvation is 
 universally enjoyed. He is gratified and delighted when 
 one soul is brought to Christ ; and his pleasure rises in 
 proportion to the accessions which are made to the king- 
 dom of the Redeemer; but still he regrets and mourns 
 that others should remain in their ignorance and sins, 
 with "joyful grief." Therefore, he prosecutes his labors, 
 and earnestly prays that the " kingdom of God may 
 come," and that the whole earth may be filled with his 
 glory. 
 
 The biographer of Mr. Trosse, thus concludes his 
 sketch. 
 
 "Thus lived, and thus died, this excellent man, an 
 
GEORGE TROSSE. 153 
 
 astonishing instance of divine grace which reformed and 
 pardoned him ; an encouraging example of repentance, 
 like the Apostle Paul of old, for the chief of sinners. The 
 two parts of whose life, like contraries set near together, 
 afford a most lively delineation of the odious nature of sin 
 and the beauty of holiness, and serve most powerfully to 
 discourage the one, and recommend the other. An admiring 
 and grateful sense of divine goodness, and a very sorrowful 
 remorse for the loss of the first part of his life, constantly 
 governed his mind for the last six and fifty years of it, 
 and made him redeem time, after a very uncommon rate, 
 by reason of which he far outwent those who began their 
 Christian course much ealier than hmiself Practical 
 religion adorned his profession, and, by his being inde- 
 fatigable in doing good, he made it appear that he thought 
 as he spake, when he declared, ' he neither valued, or 
 desired life on any other account.' And, while some are 
 peculiarly eminent in some graces, those who best knew 
 him, were ready to think there were few, if any, to be 
 mentioned in which he did not excel. These rendered 
 him eminent in eveiy relation and capacity ; as a son, a 
 husband, a father, a neighbor, a friend, and more especial- 
 ly, as a minister of the gospel. And though he had 
 doubtless his failings, as well as other men ; yet so extra- 
 ordinary an example is seldom to be found, of sobriety, 
 justice, temperance, industry, humilitj^ self-denial, con- 
 tentment, patience, charity, contempt of the world, love 
 to God, trust in him, resignation to his will, zeal for his 
 glory, and in a word, of whatever belongs to the charac- 
 ter of a Christian or of a minister. It can be no wonder 
 that such a person should live beloved, and die lamented 
 by good men of all persuasions ; his malignant enemies 
 *14 
 
154 GEORGE TROSSE. 
 
 have nothing to accuse him of, save in the matters of his 
 reUgion, wherein he was truly fervent and zealous. But 
 his piety baffled their weak efforts to blacken him while 
 he lived, and his memory shall be blessed when the name 
 of the wicked shall rot." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 MAJOR GEN. ANDREW BURN. 
 
 THE GOODNESS OF GOD LEADING TO REPENTANCE. 
 
 Andrew Burn, whose case next comes under our re- 
 view, was born, in 1742, at Dundee, in Scotland. We 
 give his story in his own words. 
 
 " Besides the common mercy, of being born in a Chris- 
 tian land, God was pleased to bestow upon me another, 
 which is not common to all his children : that of being 
 born of godly parents, and surrounded on all sides by 
 truly pious relations. 
 
 Infant reason no sooner dawned, than they began to 
 use every possible means to give that reason a right bias 
 towards its proper object ; and they daily approached the 
 throne of grace with fervent prayer for their helpless 
 child, before he knew how to pray for himself. When a 
 rude and unthinking boy at school, I have sometimes 
 stood at my pious grand mothci-'s closet door; and how 
 many heart-affecting prayers and ardent supplications 
 have I heard poured forth for me, for which I then never 
 iraascined there was the smallest occasion ! 
 
156 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 The virtuous and evangelical principles I imbibed in 
 my youth, and the pious examples constantly set before 
 me, though frequently slighted, and sometimes in the 
 course of a wicked life entirely forgotten, yet seldom or 
 never failed to witness against me in the wilful commis- 
 sion of sin ; and frequently were means of preventing its 
 perpetration : and what prevents sin, must surely be a 
 great blessing. 
 
 From my infancy to the age of sixteen, having none 
 but virtuous examples before me, and being surrounded 
 with pious relatives, ready to warn and correct me on the 
 least failure, I should have been in a manner constrained 
 to walk circumspectly, even if I had been most viciously 
 inclined : that, however, was not the case : for my com- 
 passionate Creator, among all his other favors, gave me a 
 tender conscience, which in those early days v.'as more 
 hearkened to than it has frequently been since; and, if 1 
 mistake not, the principal part, if not the whole of my 
 religion consisted in attempts to pacify this clamorous 
 monitor. 
 
 My parents carefully taught me to pray with the lip ; 
 but it was beyond their power to make me pray with the 
 heart, and that I seldom or never did. I was obliged to 
 repeat the Assembly's Catechism, at least, once a week, 
 for eight or ten years together; but I may safely venture 
 to affirm, I did not know the spiritual meaning of one sen- 
 tence in it. The Bible also I read over several limes, but 
 with no more profit at that period than I received from re- 
 peating the catechism. The name of Jesus Christ, with 
 salvation through him alone, was continually sounding 
 in my ears ; but, alas ! 1 neither saw my need of such a 
 Savior, nor at all understood the extreme importance of 
 this declaration. Indeed, I thought it was my indis- 
 
ANDREW BURN. 157 
 
 pensable duty to be religious like those about me, 
 that I might escape the pains of hell, and lay in a 
 claim to the joys of heaven. A phaiisec in minia- 
 ture, I delighted to think of heaven, and often longed to 
 be one of its inhabitants ; though I never rightly relished 
 the nature of their divine employment." 
 
 About the age of fourteen, young Burn was appren- 
 ticed to a respectable attorney, and pursued his studies 
 with considerable success, for somewhat more than a year, 
 when he became discontented and set his heart strongly 
 upon entering the nav3^ Having gained his father's 
 consent, he embarked in a sloop of war, just as he was 
 entering his sevenleeiith year, and after one or two short 
 cruises in the North-Sea, and the Channel, sailed with a 
 convoy, in the month of April 1759, for the West Indies. 
 He had not been long at Jamaica, when his father, under 
 whose pious care he had been kept back from many pre- 
 sumptuous sins, was constrained by ill health to leave 
 the service, and return to England. Before he left, he 
 obtained his son's discharge also, and then all young 
 Burn's hopes of rising in the navy were dashed at 
 once. 
 
 Here, however, he soon obtained a lucrative place in 
 the service of a planter, and entertained sanguine hopes 
 of amassing a fortune. In Jamaica he remained about 
 one year, during which time he gradually threw off those 
 restraints of conscience, which had hitherto preserved 
 him from the grosser vices, and having been mercifully 
 spared, when most of his young companions were swept 
 off by sickness, he resolved to embrace the first opportuni- 
 ty of returning to England. The voyage was long and 
 extremely perilous, and when he landed, he was soon 
 
158 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 reduced to his last shilling. After many disappointments, 
 which are particularly detailed in his diary, and in which 
 he afterwards saw the overruling hand of a merciful 
 Providence, he obtained a commission in the marines, 
 and found himself very agreeably stationed at Chatham. 
 
 " In this town," says he, " ten years after the events I 
 am now narrating, the Lord was graciously pleased to 
 reveal to my rejoicing heart, the best of all his blessings, 
 the Lord Jesus Christ; witnessing by his Spirit, that he 
 was bestowed freel3% without money, and without price, 
 that the whole praise might redound to his infinite mercy. 
 Of what avail would all his other blessings have been, 
 without this ? Without Christ Jesus I had turned them 
 all into a curse. 
 
 For the three j^ears previous to this period, having been 
 tossed about from place to place, in a very unsettled state* 
 as above described, I had little opportunity and much less 
 inclination, to attend the means of grace, or to read good 
 books. But now having more spare time than I well 
 knew how to employ, my earl}'' habits involuntarily re- 
 turned to my recollection. I began to consider how I 
 could most advantageously employ my leisure, and ac- 
 cordingly laid down a regular plan for the performance 
 of religious duties, to which I strictly adhered. Most of 
 my ancestors having been members of the church of 
 Scotland, and having myself been educated under my 
 pious grandfather, a minister of that church, I thought it 
 was not my duty to leave it, and therefore joined a Pres- 
 byterian congregation at Rochester. I constantly attend- 
 ed divine service, received the sacrament once a month, 
 made a conscience of strictly performing my private de- 
 votions, and I believe was considered by most who knew 
 me, to be a very good Christian. Nay, pharisee-like, I 
 
ANDREW BURN. 159 
 
 was very much inclined to think so myself. But what- 
 ever I might be in my own eyes, or in the eyes cf others, 
 1 certainly was far from being right in the sight of a pure 
 and holy God. As yet, I was ignorant of the depth of 
 iniquity in my depraved heart; I had but very indistinct 
 views of the extent and spirituality of God's holy law, 
 and no just conceptions of the heinous nature and dread- 
 ful effects of sin ; consequently could not fully appreciate 
 the value of the precious blood shed to take it away, or 
 heartily love or believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was 
 manifested to rescue his people frcm tie bondage of sin. 
 So far from partaking of this happy freedom, I still re- 
 mained the willing slave to various sinful lusts and pas- 
 sions, and felt no remorse in daily doing many things I 
 should shudder to think of now. Thus 1 continued for 
 several months ; and, however strange it may appear, even 
 then, from the severe checks of an awakened and tender 
 conscience, I made som.e progress in a relig-ious life. In- 
 deed my experience at this period appears a perfect para- 
 dox, and obliges me to relate things apparently irreconci- 
 lable, because they were true. Though I was frequently 
 with little remor.-e falling into sin, yet by the power of 
 restraining grace, I was enabled to cut off many sins as 
 dear to me as a right hand, or a right eye. 
 
 Having had great experience then, and since, in these 
 painful operations, I would recommend it to those who 
 are determined to be *' on the Lord's side," to be resolutely 
 expeditious. If a limb of our body is to be amputated, 
 and an unskillful surge >n, instead of doing it in a few 
 minutes, should keep sawing and cutting it for a whole 
 day, how dreadfully excruciating would such an operation 
 be ! Just so it is in a spiritual sense ; the more violent it 
 grows, and the more difficult afterwards to subdue ; but 
 
160 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 if you have courage effectually to destroy it at one stroke, 
 the soul is immediately set at a happy liberty. When 
 the Lord was pleased to convince me of the sin of spend- 
 ing so much valuable time at cards, (my whole attention 
 and thoughts being carried after them,) 1 found it neces- 
 sary, for the peace of my conscience, to set about a refor- 
 mation. First I vowed, and that very solemnly, that 1 
 would only devote a certain time to them, and no more; 
 but this resolution continually failing, I next determined 
 to play only for a certain sum and never to exceed it. 
 When that would not do, I vowed still more resolutely 
 to play only for recreation, determining to be careful in 
 the choice of persons with whom I played. But all 
 proved ineffectual. The more I resolved, the stronger 
 grew the sin. A multitude of broken vows heaped guilt 
 upon guilt, and brought an accumulated load of sorrow 
 upon my mind. So much so, that on one Lord's day, 
 when I was to receive the sacrament, before I approached 
 the sacred ordinance, my conscience so keenly accused 
 me on account of this beloved idol, that I hardly knew 
 what to do with myself. I tried to pacify it by a renewal 
 of all my resolutions, with many additions and amend- 
 ments. I parleyed and reasoned the matter over for hours, 
 trying, if possible, to come to some terms of accommodation, 
 but still the obstinate monitor within cried out — " There's 
 an Achan in the camp; approach the table of the Lord 
 if you dare." Scared at the threat, and yet unwilling to 
 part with my darling lusts, I became like one possessed. 
 Restless and uneasy, 1 flew out of the house, to vent my 
 misery with more freedom in the fields, under the wide 
 canopy of heaven. Here I was led to meditate on the 
 happiness of the righteous, and the misery of the wicked 
 in a future state. The importance of eternity, falling 
 
ANDREW BURN. 161 
 
 with a ponderous weight upon my soul, raised such a 
 vehement indignation against "the accursed thing" 
 within, that, crying to God for help, I kneeled down 
 under a hedge, and taking heaven and earth to witness, 
 wrote on a piece of paper with my pencil, a solemn vow 
 that I never would play at cards, on any pretence what- 
 soever, so long as I lived. No sooner had I put my name 
 to this solemn vow, than I felt myself another creature. 
 Sorrow took wing and flew away, and a delightful peace 
 succeeded. The intolerable burden being removed from 
 my mind, I approached the sacred table of the Lord with 
 an unusual degree of pleasure and delight. This was not 
 my only idol. I had many others to contend with. 
 
 But while I was endeavoring to heal my wounded soul 
 in one place, ere 1 was aware, sin broke out in another. 
 Yet still I kept striving, and at that time was far from 
 thmking myself unsuccessful ; conceiving my state a 
 very safe one, I was comfortable and cheerful. Indeed, 
 I have often wondered since at the happiness I then en- 
 joyed. 
 
 The thought has sometimes almost stumbled me. I 
 loved the society of Christians, and sometimes had sweet 
 communion with God in prayer and other ordinances. 
 Nay, 1 have at times enjoyed such happy moments, such 
 delightful intercourse with heaven, particularly on an 
 evening, that after having recommended my soul to God 
 in fervent supplication, 1 have lain down with the great- 
 est serenity of mind, and been indifferent whether I should 
 ever open my eyes again in this world or not. 
 
 My reliance at this time was not on my works, but 
 on the mercy of God as freely manifested in Christ Jesus, 
 Yet I remained a stranger to the quickening power of di- 
 vine grace in my soul. 
 15 
 
162 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 The sound doctrines of the gospel floated in my head, 
 but I believe they had not fully, if at all, reached my heart. 
 If I am not much mistaken, I was as yet in a great mea- 
 sure, carnal, unaffected, and ignorant. The world was 
 neither crucified to me, nor I to it. I had not learnt wholly 
 to deny myself, to take up my cross, and to follow Christ. 
 But whatever my state might be at that time, whether 1 
 enjoyed a true or false peace, this one thing I am sure 
 of — the Lord in infinite mercy and goodness has since, 
 by various means, imperceptibly brought me to a more 
 feeling sense of my own vileness and wretched state by 
 nature, and to a greater acquaintance with the iniquity of 
 my depraved heart, and has given me clearer apprehen- 
 sions of his love to lost sinners, as displayed in the gift of 
 his only Son Jesus Christ. Though I am yet a babe in 
 this saving knowledge, I humbly trust he will perfect 
 the work he has begun, to the praise of the glory of his 
 grace." 
 
 Undoubtedly, the subject of this memoir was still " in 
 the o-all of bitterness, and the bonds of iniquity,' or after 
 several changes in the service, and some remarkable de- 
 liverances, he went to France upon the return of peace, in 
 1763, where he spent several years, in all the dissipations 
 of that voluptuous country ; and where he had well nigh 
 embraced a sort of refined, sensual, and philosophical 
 atheism. 
 
 " I now," says he, " looked upon myself as one, who, 
 by dint of study and reflection, had entirely shaken off 
 the prejudices of education, and got above the religion 
 of the country in which I was born. My religion, I 
 thought, was now of the most refined description, thor- 
 oughly purged from every bigoted principle, and what all 
 
ANDREW BURN. 163 
 
 men of sense would readily approve, though it would 
 puzzle an abler judgment than mine, rightly to define 
 what it was. 
 
 In this frame of mind, as nearly as I can recollect, I 
 arrived in England, after having spent six weeks at Paris, 
 at the time of the marriage of king Louis, rolling in every 
 forbidden pleasure, and delighting without remorse in all 
 the sinful gratifications which that polluted city could 
 present to its votaries. On my coming to London, I was 
 so surfeited with those pleasures in which the world 
 places its chief happiness, that for a time, I had no relish 
 to partake any more of them ; but God knows, that, not- 
 withstanding this, I had not the least desire after anything 
 that was good. 
 
 My whole conduct, and way of thinking were so visibly 
 diflferent from what they were, when I left England, that 
 all my former acquaintance, especially those at Chatham, 
 could not forbear taking particular notice of the change. 
 They that feared God saw it with sorrow, and I believe 
 prayed for me — (the Lord reward them for their prayers, 
 for they were surely heard.) To others it was a matter 
 of satisfaction, and a good subject for mirth, to perceive 
 that their former bigoted companion had effectually wiped 
 off what they and I were now pleased to call the preju- 
 dices of religion. Upon my arrival in Scotland, it was 
 still worse. A pious father and mother, with sorrow of 
 heart, soon remarked the melancholy change, which I 
 had not hypocrisy enough to conceal. They so often 
 repeated this expression, " France has been your ruin," 
 that 1 began seriously to reflect, whether it really was so 
 or not. Upon a strict examination of what I had expe- 
 rienced seven or eight years before, I could hardly per- 
 suade myself it was all a delusion ; but was rather in- 
 
164 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 clined to think there might be some reality in it ; and if 
 so, I naturally concluded I could not be right now, be- 
 cause nothing could be more clear than the difference 
 there was between the state of my mind at that period, 
 and at the present. Notwithstanding my secret misgiv- 
 ings, I was both ashamed and loth to give up a system of 
 religion, or I should rather say of irreligion, so well suited 
 to my natural incUnation, and probably should have car- 
 ried it with me to the grave, if grace had not prevented. 
 The chief cause why I afterwards discarded it, was 
 that God in mercy to me, would not let me keep it. 
 The repeated admonitions of my pious relatives, to which 
 I was forced to listen, helped greatly to confirm the sus- 
 picions about the safety of my state ; and from one step 
 to another, my doubts imperceptibly increased, till at last 
 I began to grow restless and uneasy. I sometimes wished 
 I had never imbibed these pernicious principles, which 
 Still retained their chief seat in my heart. What seemed 
 most to shake my suspicions at this time, was the remem- 
 brance of that Pharisaical disposition and spiritual pride 
 with which I was puffed up when I left Chatham ; and 
 a secret strong persuasion that God had thus left me on 
 purpose, to root it out effectually, by showing me how 
 unable I was to stand when left to myself, and to what 
 dreadful lengths I was liable to run. These reflections 
 were accompanied by a hope that God would one day 
 restore me to his favor ; but how, or when, or where, this 
 mighty change should be effected, I had no conception. 
 So far from this, I was led to believe it a thing almost 
 impossible ; the whole bent of my mind was so diametri- 
 cally opposite to a practical reception of the truths revealed 
 in the gospel, that had it not been for this secret hope that 
 encouraged me, I never should have attempted to search 
 
ANDREW BURN. 165 
 
 after them. I attended on the means of grace. I read, 
 I prayed ; but my heart remained just as hard and insen- 
 sible, and if possible, more prone than ever, to everything 
 that was bad. But God, who is •' rich in mercy, worketh 
 and none can let." 
 
 He, therefore, made use of such instruments as proved 
 effectual to raze the foundation of all those false hopes 
 and erroneous notions by which the devil held me fast. 
 
 • The first things that made any evident impression 
 upon me, were the pious letters of my Christian corre- 
 spondents: though 1 could not then embrace what they 
 advanced, yet I clearly saw its truth, and longed to be in 
 their safe and happy state. I disputed with them, but it 
 was with a kind of reluctance, and one thing has fre- 
 quently struck me, that though I was well persuaded of 
 my ability to stagger them by raising arguments, which 
 I had picked up in disputing with the Roman Catholics, 
 yet I never was permitted to make use of them. When 
 I attempted, a secret impulse from within seemed to whis- 
 per thus : — " What ! turn advocate for Satan ! Not 
 content with being blinded by him, yourself, must you 
 endeavor to delude others ! " 
 
 This, together with a kind of secret pride, lest my 
 friends should think I was ten times worse than they at 
 first imagined, prevented my throwing stumbling blocks in 
 their way. Though I was unwilling to yield to the force 
 of my correspondents' arguments, yet I could not help 
 being convinced they were agreeable to the word of God, 
 and I found they gained more and more upon me every 
 day, till by the grace of Jesus, they had imperceptibly 
 created a secret and growing desire to be reconciled to 
 the infinitely gracious Being, whom I was now made sen^ 
 sible I had most grievously offended. Blessed be the 
 M5 
 
166 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 name of the Lord ! he did not stop here. If he had, these 
 slight impressions would soon have worn off, and I had 
 now been either enduring- torment, or, what is next to it, 
 wallowing in sin. But his rich mercy followed me from 
 one means to another, till my iaipenitent heart felt the 
 power of his grace, was made willing to submit to his 
 sovereign will, and to accept of a free and full salvation 
 by a crucified Redeemer. 
 
 I had been but a few months with my friends in Scot- 
 land, when I was unexpectedly ordered upon actui',1 ser- 
 vice, and obliged to repair to London with all speed. I 
 arrived there in December, 1770, after a tedious and per- 
 ilous passage by sea, having more than once or twice ex- 
 perienced the goodness of God in delivering me fiom the 
 most imminent danger. He had gracious purposes of love 
 towards me, which were ripening apace, and just ready to 
 be manifested. Some military business detained me in 
 London nearl}^ two months; in which interval, God was 
 pleased to emploj'- two very powerful means to break 
 asunder the chains of darknsss, by which Satan had long 
 led me captive at his will. The first was the unexpected 
 and melancholy account of the death of a dearly beloved 
 brother. He was my only brother, and I loved him as 
 my own soul ! The painful, though friendly stroke fell 
 with uncommon weight upon my mind, and a circum- 
 stance, somewhat remarkable, served to render it still more 
 affecting. I received the gloomy communication upon 
 nearly the same spot where, seven or eight years before, 
 we had taken our last affectionate farewell of each other. 
 Oh how solemn and pungent was the thought ! It prey- 
 ed upon my soul, making me seriously reflect upon my 
 latter end, and compelling me, (though with dread) to 
 look beyond the grave, towards that awful and eternal 
 
ANDRfiW BURN. 167 
 
 State into which my dear brother had just entered. I now 
 began, in good earnest, to see the vanity and dangerous 
 tendency of those abominable and erroneous notions to 
 which I had tenaciously adhered for several years. They 
 now stood dressed in their proper colors, and loudly pro- 
 claimed their diabolical origin. A strong and restless 
 desire to be savingly united to God and his people, drove 
 them from the place they held in my heart, and evidently 
 prevailed in their room. 
 
 I saw the absolute necessity there was of such a Savior 
 as Jesus Christ, and was convinced there was no possibili- 
 ty of being saved any other way than by him. But not 
 feeling as yet any love in my heart towards him, nor per- 
 ceiving in his glorious person any thing that I thought 
 would ever attract my affections, I grieved and mourned, 
 and wept; being well persuaded, that unless I loved Jesus 
 Christ, there could be no hope of my salvation. Besides, 
 I was as yet under the domineering power of sin, neither 
 had the Lord shown me its heinous nature, nor that most 
 dreadful of all sights, my abominably wicked heart. That 
 he reserved for another period. He seemed now to be 
 drawing me to himself with "the cords of love." 
 
 About a fortnight after my brother's death, while I cor. 
 tinued in a mournfully disconsolate state of mind, because 
 I could not love Christ, I dreamed a very distinct and 
 remarkable dream, which had such a happy effect upon 
 my heart, that I have ever since looked upon it as the 
 principal means the Almighty was pleased to employ in 
 bringing about my thorough conversion. I thought I 
 was sitting, a little before daylight, in the morning, with 
 my deceased brother, on the wall of the parish church- 
 yard, where we had lived many years together. He re- 
 mained silent for sometime, and then he asked me if 1 
 
168 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 would not go with him into the church. I readily con- 
 sented, and immediately rising up, walked with him to- 
 wards the porch or outer gate, which I thought was very 
 large and spacious ; but when we had passed through it, 
 and came to the mner door that led directly into the body 
 of the church, some way or other, but how I could not 
 well conceive, my brother slipt in before me, and when 
 I attempted to follow, which I was all eagerness to do, 
 the door, which slid from the top to the bottom, like those 
 in some fortified towns on the continent, was instantly 
 let down more than half way, so that I now found it re- 
 quisite to bend myself almost double before I could possibly 
 enter. But as 1 stooped to try, the door continued falling 
 lower and lower, and consequently the passage became so 
 narrow, that I found it altogether impracticable in that 
 posture. Grieved to be left behind, and determined to 
 get in, if possible, I fell down on my hands, and tried to 
 squeeze my head and shoulders through; but finding my- 
 self still too high, 1 then kneeled down, crept, wrestled, 
 and pushed more eagerly, but all to no piupose. Vexed 
 to the last degree, yet unwilling to be left outside, 1 came 
 to the resolution of throwing off all my clothes, and crawl- 
 ing like a worm ; but being very desirous to preserve a 
 fine silk embroidered waistcoat, v\rhich I had brought from 
 France, I kept that on, in hopes of being able to carry it 
 with me. Then laying myself flat on m^'' face, I toiled 
 and pushed, and strove, soiled my embroidered waistcoat, 
 but could not get in after all. At last, driven almost to 
 despair, I stripped myself entirely, and forced my body 
 between the door and the ground, till the rough stones 
 and the gravel tore all the skin and flesh upon my breast, 
 and (as I thought,) covered me with blood. IndifTerent, 
 however, about this, and perceiving I advanced a httle, I 
 
ANDREW BURN. 169 
 
 continued to strive and squeeze, with more violf nee than 
 ever, till at last I safely got thiough. As soon as I stood 
 upon my feet on the inside, an invisible hand clothed me 
 in a long white robe ; and as I turned round to view the 
 place, 1 saw a goodlj^ company of saints, among whom 
 was my brother, all dressed in the same manner, partak- 
 ing of the Lord's Supper. I sat down in the niidst of 
 them, and the bread and wine being administered to me, 
 I felt such seraphic joy, such celestial ecstacy, as no mor- 
 tal can express. 
 
 1 heard a voice call me three times by name, saying I 
 was wanted at home. My joy was so great and over- 
 coming, that it soon broke asunder the silken bands of 
 sleep, and made me start up in my bed, singing the high 
 praises of God. 
 
 So much was I impressed by this remarkable dream, 
 that from this day I was enabled to begin an entirely 
 new life, which (as I advanced in the saving knowledge 
 of divine things) proved as different from the life I had 
 led for several years back, as it is possible any two oppo- 
 sites can be. Old things were now done away, and all 
 things became new. Not that I obtained a complete vic- 
 tory over my domineering sins all at once, or renounced 
 all my false opinions in one day ; but a bitter and eternal 
 war was instantly declared against the one, and as God 
 made the discovery to me, I let go the other. My mind 
 was gradually enlightened to comprehend the glorious 
 and important truths of the everlasting gospel, and the 
 eyes of my understanding were so opened to discern spir- 
 itual things, that I now read my Bible with winder and 
 astonishment. 1 paused almost at every sentence, rumi- 
 nating within myself; and could hardly be persuaded 
 whether or not I had ever read man^ of the passages be- 
 
170 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 fore, so amazingly were they opened, and so very differ- 
 ent did the nrieaning of them appear to be from what I 
 had previously apprehended. The sweet and comfortable 
 impression which this dream left upon my mind for many 
 days, encouraged and inspired me with fresh vigor in the 
 pursuit of heavenly things. [ now plainly saw that I 
 had long strayed in the wilderness of error, and was fully 
 and delightfully convinced the good Shepherd had found 
 me out, and was determined to carry me back again to 
 his fold. 
 
 But what is very astonishing, I did not yet perceive 
 any sensible drawings of affection after him, or feel in my 
 heart that love and delight which, blessed be his name! 
 I humbly trust, I have at times since, sweetly experi- 
 enced. Nor, till nearly a year afterwards, did I rightly 
 conceive, in any adequate degree, what was meant by the 
 intolerable burden of sin. But as the Lord increased and 
 strengthened my faith, and shed abroad his love in my 
 heart, sin, that accursed thing, grew blacker and blacker, 
 till at last the sight became so odious, that had not he first 
 very tenderly comforted me, I never could have borne 
 what I felt of it in my own breast. While God continu- 
 ed gradually to initiate me in the divine life, and gra- 
 ciously condescended to give me brighter discoveries of 
 his redeeming love, my spiritual enemies were not inac- 
 tive. Many secret and dangerous snares were laid to en- 
 trap my soul, and hinder my progress in the heavenly 
 road ; but the God of boundless love and pity, who kindly 
 beheld my critical situation, not only kept them from 
 hurting me, but exerted in my behalf that power which 
 is peculiar to himself, of bringing good out of evil. 
 
 A few weeks after my dream, though I had every rea- 
 son to fear bein^ sent to the West Indies, (as an officer 
 
ANDREW BURN. 171 
 
 who exchanged duties with me was,) yet the Lord, whose 
 watchful eye was over me, so overruled events, that I was 
 securel}'- and speedily fixed among my former pious friends 
 and acquaintance at Chatham, and to my great joy hap- 
 pily united to the person I had loved for many years : in 
 short, ] was now more comfortably settled in life than I 
 had ever yet been ; freed from the pressure of poverty, 
 and a number of other worldly cares and embarrassments 
 to which I had long been exposed. But here a vigilant 
 enemy contrived his well-timed scheme, and brought it to 
 a dreadful length ere 1 perceived the danger. Wrapping 
 me round in the comforts of this world, he found an easy 
 passage to my corrupt heart, and insensibly drew away 
 my affections into an eager, restless desire for the enjoj^- 
 ment of these poor perishing vanities. So deeply was my 
 attention at last engaged in this pursuit, and so effectually 
 had the god of this world bUnded the eyes of my under- 
 standing, that I not only began to lose a relish for spirit- 
 ual things, and the believing view of heavenly objects, 
 bdt a thick veil was likewise drawing over all that the 
 Lord had just been doing for me ; and had not his grace 
 speedily prevented, I had undoubtedly fallen a prey to the 
 snare of the enemy, and like Demas, should entirely have 
 forsaken the cause of a crucified Savior. But I was 
 suddenly aroused from my spiritual lethargy by a friendly 
 but severe stroke of his rod ; so severe that to this day I 
 feel the smart of it in my body, and probably shall carry 
 the marks of it to my grave. 
 
 It was nothing more at first than a little swelling on 
 my neck, about the size of a nut, of which, for some time, 
 I took little or no notice, imagining it would go away, as 
 it came, without giving me any pain or trouble. But 
 God, seeing it was high time to afiiict me, used this swell- 
 
172 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 ing as a rod, causing ii to increase to such a degree that 
 I was glad to have recourse to medical advice; but with- 
 out effect. 
 
 It enlarged inwardly, and gradual y spread till it got 
 below the clavicle, or collar bone, and gave rne so much 
 pain, that 1 was, at last, obliged to undergo the excruciat- 
 ing operation of having it cut out ; and, after all, the in- 
 fected part was found to be so deep, there was no getting 
 at the bottom to heal it by any outward application. It 
 grew worse and worse, threw me every now and then 
 into a fever, and by a constant and copious discharge 
 emaciated my body, and reduced me to so low a state, 
 that all who saw me naturally concluded it would soon 
 put a period to my life. In this crisis, the happy effects 
 which a God of love intended should flow from this afflic- 
 tion, began to appear; the thoughts of death in my pres- 
 ent state, lay with uncommon weight upon my mind, and 
 caused such deep searchings of heart, that I was made 
 willing to forsake all for some comfortable hope of my 
 eternal bliss by Jesus Christ. The world, that gilded 
 vanity, which I had been sinfully hugging in my bosom 
 till it had well nigh destroyed me, now shrunk from my 
 fond embrace, an ug y, deformed thing. I blushed, to 
 think I had been so mean as to place my affections one 
 moment upon it, and resolutely determined for the future, 
 to give my heart entirely to God, who had an indisputa- 
 ble right to it. 
 
 The finger of the Lord was so evidently manifest to 
 me in this affliction, that I can truly say, if ever I was in 
 any degree thankful for any of his mercies, it was for 
 this. 
 
 At first indeed it was grievous, very grievous to bear, 
 but as soon as I perceived its happy effe c , and saw the 
 
ANDREW BURN. 17^ 
 
 absolute necessity there was for it, (I desire to speak to 
 the glory of his grace,) I really in some measure delighted 
 in my pain ; seemed to enjoy it as a valuable thing, and 
 blessed his holy name, for this soul-satisfying token of 
 his fatherly love and care. 
 
 Yet, strange to think, so strong is my natural propensi- 
 ty to doubt, that I frequently question whether God ever 
 loved me or not. Cursed sin ! May that all-sufficient 
 grace which has upheld me hitherto, now give me an 
 entire dominion over it. Surely I, of all men, have no 
 reason to doubt of the love of God, were I only to allege 
 this affliction as a proof of it. When my wandermg heart 
 is drawn out so much after the objects of time and sense, 
 a gentle stroke of this rod, (which is still suspended over 
 me,) gives the friendly warning, puts me in mind of my 
 latter end, and points toward heaven. O what a treasure 
 is sanctified affliction ! No sooner did I feel the happy 
 effects of it upon my soul at this time, than I began with 
 more earnestness than ever, to seek after God. I longed 
 for close communion with him ; I delighted in his courts, 
 and in the solemn assemblies of the more select company 
 of his spiritual worshippers. In short, I could not rest 
 till I had become, in a more intimate and public manner, 
 one of those despised people whom, a few months before, 
 I had looked upon with pity and contempt, as ignorant 
 fanatics, deceiving themselves and willing to deceive 
 others. The people of God, of ever}'- denomination, poor 
 or rich, now became to me "the excellent of the earth," 
 in whom was all my delight. I loved them from my 
 heart, because they belonged to Christ, and bore his 
 image, and through his grace, I can do so still. I have 
 not perceived my affection for them abated, and humbly 
 trust I never shall. 
 16 
 
174 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 Surely nothing less than divine power could in a space 
 of a few months have thus effectually overthrown the 
 massive bulwarks of infidelity, which Satan had been 
 continually strengthening for the space of six years in 
 my corrupt heart, or have bent my vicious and stubborn 
 will to embrace the self-abasing doctrines of the gospel. 
 That such a change has been wrought, 1 am as certain, 
 as of my own existence ; so likewise am I confident that 
 it was not in the smallest degree attributable to any in- 
 herent strength of my own. God alone must have been 
 the author of it. To him therefore be all the glory. 
 
 Nothing but shame and confusion belongs to me, for 
 having so ill-requited a God of such boundless compas- 
 sion. He has done great things for me, I have done but 
 little for him in return ; yet still the same grace that began 
 the work, has I trust hitherto carried it on ; so that I can 
 say with the Apostle, " By the help of God, I continue 
 unto this day." 
 
 Before I conclude this feeble attempt to illustrate the 
 freeness of Jesus' s love to the most undeserving of all his 
 creatures, I will just mention some marks of his tenderness 
 and care, which in great condescension he deigned to 
 confer upon me, after he had mercifully called me 
 from the tyranny of Satan into the happy freedom of the 
 gospel. 
 
 Sometime before, and even after, I had joined a society 
 of Christians, I frequently doubted the soundness of my 
 conversion, and consequently the safety of my state from 
 not having keenly felt what I so often heard them talk- 
 ing about — terrors of conscience, deep convictions of sin, 
 horrors of mind on account of the impending wrath of 
 God, and the impossibility of entering the kingdom of 
 heaven, without feeling something of such emotions. It 
 
ANDREW BURN. 175 
 
 was not long before these doubts and fears were gracious- 
 \y removed : but, as I have already hinted, in proportion 
 as the love of Christ increased in my soul, a deadly hatred 
 to sin was excited. I gradually saw the dreadful conse- 
 quences that attended it, and how odious it was in the 
 sight of a pure and holy God. At these happy seasons 
 when the Lord was pleased to give me any singular 
 manifestations of his love, a holy tremor seemed to seize 
 me, lest I should do anything that might offend him. 
 Whenever 1 was made sensible of sinning, either by 
 omission, or commission, in thought, word, or deed, the 
 bitter tears, heavy groans, and excruciating pangs of soul 
 I went through, till they were removed by a believing 
 view of the atoning sacrifice of our Lord, no mortal can 
 conceive but those who have experienced something of 
 the same kind. 
 
 And to this day, as I am never without sin, I can truly 
 say it is a continual source of sorrow to me. It is a heavy 
 burden under which 1 should sink, if I did not experi- 
 mentally know that Jesus died to save me from its 
 reigning power, as well as from the punishment it 
 deserves. 
 
 As I have every reason to praise God for these favors, so 
 ought I to bless and magnify his holy name as the hearer 
 and answerer of prayer generally. I can boldly say from 
 my heart, I have truly found him such, and never more 
 so than when he has refused a direct and immediate grant 
 to ray petitions. For then I have frequently seen in the 
 issue, that 1 have ten times more reason to thank him for 
 the refusal than if he had granted me what I asked. I will 
 mention one instance of this kind, as a specimen of many, 
 previously observing that when clear views of divine 
 truth were first imparted to me, I frequently prayed that 
 
176 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 whenever he called me to embark in a man-of-war, (that 
 dreadful abode for a Christian, which I had long inhabit- 
 ed,) I might even there find some serious person to con- 
 verse with, who by good advice and a pious example, 
 might be the means of preventing me from falling. But 
 this prayer I had for sometime neglected to offer up, and 
 indeed had entirely forgotten ; though God had not, as 
 will be seen by the sequel. About forty years ago, when 
 I was a subaltern in the royal marine corps, two other 
 officers and myself were ordered to embark, one in each 
 of the three guard-ships then stationed in the Medway. 
 Two of them lay close to the Dock-yard, affording at all 
 times easy access to the shore: but the other, the Resolu- 
 tion of 74 guns, was moored half-way dov/n the river, 
 towards Sheerness, from whence in winter and bad 
 weather, it was troublesome to land, and sometimes im- 
 practicable. For this reason it was natural for each of 
 us to wish for one of the Chatham ships, and strong in- 
 terest was accordingly made by us respectively with the 
 commanding officer for this purpose. But he, finding he 
 must necessarily disoblige one of the three, ordered us to 
 attend the parade next morning, and draw lots for our 
 ships. This of course drove me to my strong hold, and if 
 I ever prayed with fervency in my life, it was now. I 
 pleaded hard with the Searcher of hearts, that he knew 
 my chief motive for desiring one of the Chatham ships, 
 that I might constantly attend the m.eans of grace, and 
 the ordinances of his house ; and I felt a confidence that 
 if I really was a child of God, he would grant my re- 
 quest — since the " lot thus cast into the lap," was wholly 
 at his disposal ! The important morning came, and I drew 
 the dreaded ship, down the river. 
 
 Had I drawn my death warrant, I hardly think it would 
 have affected me more. 
 
ANDREW BrRN. \17 
 
 My prayer was now apparently rejected, and the enemy 
 of souls taking advantage of the agitated state of my de- 
 praved heart, easily made me draw the conclusion, either 
 that I was no Christian, or that God paid no attention to 
 those who professed to be such. In this gloomy de- 
 sponding state, like a criminal going to execution, I em- 
 barked the same forenoon in His Majesty's ship Resolu- 
 tion, Ij^ing in a dreary part of the Medway, a few miles 
 from Sheerness. 
 
 T had just time to be introduced to the officers in the 
 ward-room, when dinner came in. 
 
 The third Lieutenant, happening to be entered that 
 week, of course stood up at the head of the table, and 
 asked a blessing; but with so much seriousness as quite 
 astonished me ; for being well acquainted with the cus- 
 toms of the ward-room in a king's ship, I had never heard 
 anything of the kind so solemnly pronounced there before, 
 and I determined to mark every word which proceeded from 
 that gentleman's lips, in the hope of hearing something 
 that might enable me to ascertain his character. Nothing 
 decisive occurred during dinner ; but no sooner was the 
 wine placed on the table, than he was attacked by sever- 
 al of his messmates on his religious sentiments, and I soon 
 discovered that he bore the genuine marks of a true Chris- 
 tian, by his judicious reproofs, and the very able manner 
 in which he confuted all their infidel arguments. Wishing, 
 I suppose, to know what spirit I was of, \\\ey frequenth' 
 appealed to rne for the truth of what they advanced ; but 
 having always decided against them, I was imperceptibly 
 drawn into the disputation on the side of the lieutenant. 
 When the allowance of v.-ine was drunk, (for it was a 
 sober well regulated mess,) the purser rose and broke up 
 the company, exclaiming with an oath, " Our new mess- 
 '*16 
 
178 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 mate is as great a methodist as Tomlinson."* I smiled, 
 well pleased to be associated with such a man. As two 
 needles touched with the loadstone, when they fall near to 
 each other among chaff, will soon come together, so this 
 methodist lieutenant and myself speedily came into con- 
 tact. After having exchanged a few questions, we went 
 down to his cabin in the gun-room, had an hour's com- 
 fortable conversation, and concluded with prayer, although 
 a few hours before, we had never seen one another's faces. 
 This singular circumstance could not fail to bring to my 
 recollection, the prayer I had so culpably forgotten, now 
 completely granted, and I began to be reconciled to the 
 ship Providence had assigned me ; but that God, who 
 abounds in goodness, and delights in mercy, never confers 
 his favors by halves. 
 
 A few days had hardly elapsed, when an order came 
 from the Admiralty, to send the Resolution up to Chat- 
 ham, and one of the ships there to take its place. This 
 was such welcome news to all on board, that lest the 
 order should be countermanded, we obej^ed it the same 
 day ; for the wind and tide favoring, we weighed, and 
 came to an anchor, off the Dock-yard, before two o'clock. 
 Thus my prayer, at first apparently rejected, was now 
 completely answered; but it was the Lord's way. Had 
 mine been attended to, and I had drawn the ship that 
 went down the river, I should have been miserable. So 
 true it is, we " know not what we should pray for as we 
 ought." 
 
 As God had thus been very merciful in not granting 
 my requests in my own way, so likewise has he been re- 
 
 * Lieutenant Tomlinsun was a pious, sensible, and well informed 
 man, then well known in the Christian world. 
 
ANDREW BURN. 179 
 
 markably gracious at other times in hearing and answer- 
 ing my petitions. An instance or two will be sufficient 
 to establish this soul-comforting truth. Sometime ago, 
 finding my heart and affections, (as alas ! 1 too frequently 
 have done since,) very much carried away after the per- 
 ishing things of this world, my zeal abating, and my love 
 for spiritual things growing cold and languid, and, of 
 course, my joy and peace in believing, almost entirely 
 vanished, I tried every means to remove the growing 
 evil; went from duty to duty, made resolution upon reso- 
 lution, wrestled and prayed, but all to no purpose. The 
 love of the world seemed to prevail over the love of Christ. 
 At last, weighed dov/n under the heavy burden, and al- 
 most ready to give over, I prayed fervently to God, that 
 as he had forruerly blessed afflictions to me in this respect, 
 I should now be willing, Vv-ere it consistent with his will, 
 that he should use that means to disentangle my heart 
 from the world, and direct it to the proper objects of its 
 love. The very next day, I was laid up with a fever — 
 and before I recovered, the world in a great measure lost 
 for a time its alluring charms. I am far from justifying 
 this method of prescribing to the Lord ; but in this instance 
 it appeared evident he heard my prayer. 
 
 At another time I prevailed upon one of my brother 
 officers, a most notorious swearer, to go to worship with 
 me, and we had just sat down in the pew, when I put up 
 a mental prayer that the preacher might be led to say 
 something against swearing, that he might be useful to 
 my companion ; and while I endeavored to recollect 
 some text of Scripture, that was against this vice, the 
 third commandment immediately presented itself with 
 full force to my mind. I thought, if this were but pro- 
 nounced with solemn energy and power from the pulpit, 
 
180 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 what good might it not do! Accordingly, toward the 
 end ot' the sermon, which, by the bye, seemed quite for* 
 eign from what 1 had been meditating upon, the preacher 
 began to reprove the odious vice of swearing, and was 
 full a quarter of an hour, demonstrating, with uncommon 
 eloquence and convincing arguments, its sinfulness, mean- 
 ness, unprofitableness, and dangerous consequences, and 
 at last concluded by repeating the third commandment 
 with such solemnity, that it forced the whole auditory 
 into the most serious attention ; while I rejoiced to think 
 the Lord had graciously condecsended to hear my prayer, 
 in a manner so admirably calculated to impress the con- 
 science of my profane companion." 
 
 The preceding narration brings down the author's me- 
 moir, to tlie month of April, 1772. He had then reached 
 his thirtieth year, and held the commission of Lieutenant 
 of marmes. When the war broke out between Great 
 Britain and her North American Colonies, he was sent to 
 this country with an expedition, and arrived in Boston 
 harbor, just after Gen. Gage had been compelled to evac- 
 uate the town. He remained but a short time upon the 
 American station ; and not- long after his return to Eng- 
 land, was sent out to India, whence he returned in poor 
 health sooner than he had expected. Subsequently he 
 sailed to Newfoundland, and was from time to time after 
 his return, employed in various short expeditions, cruises 
 and commands, till by a regular series of promotions he 
 was made Col. Commandant at Woolwich : and he was 
 ultimately raised to the rank of Major General in the 
 Army. He kept a diary during the greater part of the 
 time, which abounds with pious reflections, and striking 
 notices of the good hand of God, which was ^everywhere 
 
ANDREW BURN. 181 
 
 over him ; and from which it appears that he carried his 
 rehgion along with him, in all his expeditions ; and was 
 enabled, by the grace of God, to hold fast his integrity, 
 and whenever occasion required, to " contend earnestly for 
 the faith once delivered to the saints." At first, indeed, 
 his moral courage was put to the severest test, as nearly 
 all of his brother officers were inclined to look with pity 
 and contempt upon that tenderness of conscience, and 
 humbleness of mind which characterize the consistent 
 believer ; and it needed more firmness, no doubt, to meet 
 their raillery, than to march up to an enemy's bcUtery. 
 But when they saw he was not to be moved, they appear 
 to have discontinued their attacks, and unquestionably 
 respected him infinitely more than they would have done, 
 had he cowardly given up his Christian armor, and proved 
 disloyal to the great ' Captain of salvation.' 
 
 In the latter part of his life. General Burn cnjoj'ed 
 much leisure, which he improved, as far as his precarious 
 health would permit, in the service of his divine Master. 
 Several tracts which he wrote, for the benefit of seamen, 
 were widely circulated, and we have no doubt, did much 
 good. He died in 1814, at the advanced age of seventj'- 
 two. What were his views and hopes, in the near pros- 
 pect of exchanging worlds, will sufficiently appear from 
 the following brief extracts, with which we close this bio- 
 graphical notice. 
 
 Speaking of a severe illness which threatened his life, 
 in 1810, he says, 'In these trying moments, the soul is 
 called upon to prepare for death; but if it has not been 
 prepared before, it has chosen the very worst period to 
 think of such a vast concern. Who can reflect with 
 composure, when pain torments the body, and fever de- 
 presses the spirits ? If I was not prepared to die nearly 
 
182 ANDREW BURN. 
 
 forty years ago, I never shall be. When my only hope 
 and sole dependence was upon Jesus Christ and his fin- 
 ished salvation, his atoning blood and perfect righteous- 
 ness — so it is at this moment. And so I hope it will be, 
 when God shall please to call me hence. If he is pleased 
 to smile upon me, a poor sinner, in my dying moments, I 
 will bless his name — if not, I will cling to the Rock of 
 ages, the Lord Jesus Christ.' 
 
 To his daughter he said, with the most tender affection, 
 a few days before his death, ' I hope I shall meet you in 
 heaven.' To the clergyman who attended him he de- 
 clared with much feeling, that the atoning blood and jus- 
 tifying righteousness of Christ, were the sole foundation, 
 on which he built his hopes of everlasting happiness. 
 
 On Sabbath morning, Sept. 1 8, his friends saw that the 
 symptoms of death were upon him, and he was asked, if 
 he wished to see any one in particular? He replied with 
 much emphasis, ' nobody, nobody but Jesus Christ — 
 Christ crucified is the stay of my poor soul.' These were 
 the last words he uttered ; and at half past nine, he gen- 
 tly breathed his last, and, according to his desire and 
 prayer, went to worship that Sabbath in heaven. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 MR. CHARLES MARTYR. 
 
 FAITH LEADING TO WORKS. 
 
 Ml*. Charles Martyr was born at Greenwich, on the 
 6th of August, 1792, and entered his Majesty's Navy in 
 1807, as a clerk, on board the Prince of Wales. His in- 
 defatigable attention to the duties of his office, procured 
 for him an appointment to act as purser of the Centurion 
 fifty guns; when he had not attained the age of seven- 
 teen years. In the numberless temptations incident to 
 the naval service, he yielded less, perhaps, than most oth- 
 ers have done ; for he possessed no small share both of dis- 
 cretion and of moral courage. 
 
 Mr. Martyr was a dutiful and tender son ; and as a 
 brother, he was extremely affectionate. He was alwa3'S 
 respectful to his superiors, obliging to his equals, and kind 
 and condescending to the humblest individual. All these 
 excellent qualities may indeed be said to have ' grown 
 with his growth ;' and few young men have ever been 
 more generally respected and beloved. 
 
 In giving this account of Mr. Martyr's disposition and 
 character, no panegyric is intended. On the contrary, it 
 is expressly designed to show — what, as will be present- 
 
184 CHARLES MARTYR. 
 
 \y seen from his own papers, he was himself most anxious 
 to inculcate — that all these moral qualities, however es- 
 timable in themselves, may, and often do, exist in a heart 
 which has not advanced a single step towards ' the one 
 thing needful ; ' and that he whom the world calls ' amia- 
 ble' may, as regards the religion for which Christ lived 
 on earth, and the redemption to procure which he died, 
 have neither ' part nor lot in the matter.' 
 
 From Halifax, whither he had gone as secretary to Ad- 
 miral Griffith, he was suddenly called to England, on 
 account of his father's death, in 1816. This event seems 
 to have imparted a tone of seriousness to his mind, 
 somewhat deeper than had before been observed, though 
 no abiding religious impression was yet made upon his 
 heart. From the death of a beloved wife, which took 
 place in 1818, may be dated that more decided change in 
 his character which is indicated in the following extract 
 of a letter to his eldest son. 
 
 ' It is now nearly five years since I commenced my in- 
 quiry and search after religious truth ; and, although I 
 have availed myself of the writings of many able and pi* 
 ous men, the Bible, I can assure you, has been the grand 
 mine I have worked ; and I trust I have done so in God's 
 own appointed way. 
 
 I know, my dear boy, that as the holy Scriptures^ were 
 at first dictated by the Spirit of God, so do they now owe 
 their effects and influence to the Spirit's operations ; for the 
 things of the Spirit, as the Apostle says, are spiritually 
 discerned. 
 
 It is through a disregard to this grand consideration, 
 that many men, who by study apprehend well enough 
 the letter and grammatical sense of the Scriptures, are 
 
CHARLES MARTYR. 185 
 
 still without its power and energy upon their hearts. 
 Thus their heads are full while their hearts are barren; 
 and what to the humble inquirer, who, by constant prayer 
 for the teaching of the Holy Spirit, and by searching for 
 religious knowledge as for hidden treasures, becomes 
 the savor of life unto life : becomes to the man, who, wise 
 in his own conceit, leans to his own understanding, the 
 savor of death unto death. 
 
 It has been with this strong conviction upon my mind 
 that I have constantly prayed for a teachable spirit. I 
 have prayed, my dear boy, that all my prejudices might 
 die, and that with the spirit of a child I might receive 
 instruction. In this spirit have I incessantly applied to 
 the Fountain Head for that wisdom which is from above ; 
 and having the positive assurance from him who cannot 
 lie, that if any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, 
 who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and 
 it shall be given him ; and that he was to ask in faith, 
 nothing wavering ; I have been enabled to persevere from 
 time to time, never for an instant doubting that I should 
 eventually be led to understand all that is necessary for 
 my salvation. And, as my prayer has also invariably 
 been for that peace and joy in believing which the Scrip- 
 tures speak of, I have likewise fully assured myself, that 
 whenever it should please God to open my eyes to a full 
 acquaintance with divine truth, I should possess a joy 
 which the world could neither give nor take away. In 
 neither instance have I been disappointed. 
 
 When I was first told, my dear child, that my religion, 
 respectable as it seemed in my own eyes, and in the esti- 
 mation of most of my acquaintance, was heartless, and 
 that I was trusting more in myself that I was righteous, 
 than in the merits and atonement of Jesus Christ, for my 
 17 
 
186 CHARLES MARTYR. 
 
 salvation, I was angry ; I denounced the young friend 
 who whispered it in my ear, which she did with meek 
 kindness, as a fool, an enthusiast, a methodist. 
 
 She, however, mildly persevered, assuring me that she 
 knew enough of me, fully to convince her that I should 
 eventually agree with her upon all essential points. She 
 simply, but firmly, told me my creed was imperfect ; that 
 I had a respect for religion in the abstract, and for its or- 
 dinances, but that 1 was satisfied with the form, without 
 the power of godliness. I was really provoked, accused 
 her of presumption, and heaped all manner of charges 
 upon her. 
 
 She never attempted to retort, nor lost, for a moment, 
 her temper ; but assured me that she had foreseen all this 
 storm, and willingly incurred it, in the hope that I might 
 at all events be shaken from indifference ; adding, that 
 she was far from wishing me to adopt, what I called, her 
 notions on the subject: she merely wished me to satisfy 
 myself from the word of God that my hope of heaven was 
 rightl}^ placed ; and she assured me, that all my conver- 
 sation with her would never lead to this end. 
 
 She said very impressively, ' My dear Mr. Martyr, we 
 are nearly connected ; we have lived for some years happy 
 in each other's acquaintance, and on terms of most affec- 
 tionate intercourse. You and my dear sister, are now 
 taking your leave of us, never, I fear, to meet again in 
 this world. Will you make me one parting promise? 
 that is, not to tmst in flesh and blood on this important 
 point ! Trust not to the word of man, but seek that wis- 
 dom which can alone make you wise unto salvation, and 
 which is only to be found in the Holy Scriptures : pray 
 for the teaching of the Holy Spirit, which is promised to 
 all who ask it ; and, rely upon it, your labor will not be in 
 vain in the Lord.' 
 
CHARLES MARTVR. 187 
 
 After urging various appropriate and heart-searching 
 inquiries, she continued. 
 
 ' The first of my questions can easily be answered, — 
 Do you feel at this moment prepared to die ? I know 
 you do not,' she added ; and 1 knew so too. She then 
 pressed again and again, that I should commence that 
 inquiry which I have since carried on. And here let me 
 praise the Lord that 1 have been brought to a knowledge 
 of his word, and this by a medium that in the outset 
 seemed so little likely to lead to such a heavenly consum- 
 mation. 
 
 When I began seriously to inquire in respect to my 
 salvation, I knew, at least I have been told, and I did not 
 disbelieve it, that the oblation of Christ once offered had 
 been received as a propitiation for the sins of the whole 
 world ; and that it was sufficient to accomplish such gene- 
 ral redemption, I could not doubt ; yet I had but to look into 
 the world, and into my Bible, to satisfy me that, although 
 sufficient, it was not effectual, efficient to that end ; for if 
 so, all mankind in a mass, saints and sinners, were equally 
 safe, and when this hfe should cease, the joys of heaven 
 -would be equally the property of the humble sincere 
 Christian, and of the impenitent infidel and sinner. 
 
 Then there was pressed upon my mind the conviction, 
 that to secure a personal interest in the great sacrifice, to 
 secure my own adoption into the general family of God, 
 religion must become a personal thing with me. 
 
 I could not, it is true, accuse myself very recently of 
 any serious crimes ; but when I carefully reviewed my 
 whole past life, and traced the spirituality and extent of 
 God's law, from how few of the long black catalogue of 
 transgressions could I escape judgment ? It was then 
 that, burdened with the weight of what the word of God 
 
188 CHARLES MARTYR. 
 
 loudly designated my sins, I was led in spirit and in truth 
 to adopt the general confession of our church service. I 
 felt that I had erred, and strayed from God's ways; that 
 I had left undone those things which I ought to have 
 done ; and that I had done those things which I ought 
 not to have done ; and that there was no spiritual health 
 in me ; and I could have no doubt as to what my ulti- 
 mate end must be, unless some means of escape could be 
 discovered from the heavy condemnation that awaited 
 me. When I looked at myself, I was dismayed. I at- 
 tempted to ease my conscience by striking a balance be- 
 tween my supposed good works and my sins; but, I thank 
 God, a death-knell to this delusive system was struck by 
 the heart-searching law of God, and its denunciation, 
 ' Cursed are all they that continue not in all things, to 
 do them.' I could find nothing in the Bible, to support 
 such a system ; and by the holy law of God, I felt my- 
 self a perishing sinner. 
 
 In such a dilemma, with what healing did the gospel 
 of our blessed Savior light upon my troubled conscience I 
 What balm did my almost broken heart receive, in the as- 
 surances of our Redeemer, ' Those who come unto me, I 
 will in no wise cast out.' ' Come unto me, all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' 
 ' Whosoever believeth in me, shall not perish, but have 
 
 rlasting life,' and numerous others equally encour- 
 aging. I read the Scriptures daily ; and I prayed God 
 to give me an understanding that I might spiritually dis- 
 cern the truths which they contained, and which were 
 essential to my salvation. God had promised, (and he is 
 not a man that he should lie, or the Son of man that he 
 should repent,) that he would be known of them that 
 sought him — tiiat he would give the Holy Spirit to them 
 
cBarles martyr* 189 
 
 that asked him. I felt that 1 needed wisdom ; but I knew 
 that St. James had said, * If any man lack wisdom let 
 him ask of God, who giveth liberally, and upbraideth not, 
 and it shall be given him.' Hence, I not only prayed 
 for wisdom, while I searched the Scriptures, but I did it 
 with a confidence that 1 should receive it, for God had 
 promised ; and hence too I prayed for the inspiration of 
 his Holy Spirit, that I might more perfectly love him, 
 and more worthily magnify his holy name for Jesus 
 Christ's sake. 
 
 I really felt the desire to sing unto the Lord, and hear- 
 tily to rejoice in the strength of my salvation,. 
 
 We know that the Son of God has ascended into heav- 
 en, and sits at the right hand of God, in the character of 
 a Mediater and Advocate for those who trust their cause 
 entirely to his keeping ; and what has the humble-mind- 
 ed Christian to fear? Nothing, but the fear of offending 
 God! I know my sinfulness; but I am trusting exclu- 
 sively for pardon to the merits and death of my Redeemer. 
 
 If I am endeavoring, (and I trust I am,) to walk close- 
 ly with my God, and to live in love and charity with all 
 mankind, I feel, after I have done all, that I am a very 
 unprofitable servant ; and if Satan ever tempts me to look 
 to myself as deserving something good at the hands of 
 God, it is then that I am most in danger; — then my 
 comfort is at its lowest ebb. But when 1 approach God, 
 as a penitent sinner, asking for spiritual blessings for the 
 sake of Jesus Christ, then do I know there will be no re- 
 fusal ; for God has pledged himself to receive ail who 
 come to him through Christ ; and Christ on his part has 
 fulfilled and set seal to the covenant by his death and res- 
 urrection. 
 
 How complete, then, is the Christian dispensation ! It 
 •17 
 
190 CHARLES MARTVR. 
 
 is this fullness — this all-sufficiency, that emboldens me ; 
 and having this joy and rejoicing in my heart — oh I 
 what manner of person should I be." 
 
 Mr. Martyr felt at once that he had a great work to do, 
 in the service of his new Master. 
 
 Never, perhaps, were Christian faith and Christian 
 practice more entirely united than in his case. Finding 
 public employment was unattainable, he anxiously looked 
 round for some opportunity of occupying, with advantage 
 to his fellow creatures, the leisure this afforded him. " I 
 feel confident," said he to a friend, " that no person can 
 move in so contracted a sphere, or possess means of use- 
 fulness so limited, as not to be able to do much good. 
 For my part, I am convinced that my present leisure is 
 not given me for nothing. 
 
 Others have riches, or rank, or power, or great abilities, 
 for the use or abuse of which they must one day give a 
 solemn account. 
 
 All /have to give is time: this is, indeed, but 'one 
 talent,' but that one must not be hid in the eanh." 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Martyr commenced a regular system 
 of charitable visits, from which, not even his own weak 
 and precarious state of health could ever deter him, ex- 
 cept when he was absolutely confined to his bed ; and 
 from that time it may be literally said, that, in imitation 
 of the blessed martyr whom he loved and served, he ' went 
 about doing good.' His was not that sensibility which 
 can weep at the perusal of some fictitious tale of wo, and 
 yet shrink from the real, every day sorrows of a wretched 
 fellow creature. He never heard of a case of distress 
 within his reach, that he did not in person visit the un- 
 happy object, and endeavor to administer some balm to 
 
CHARLES MARTYR. 191 
 
 his afflictions. No hovel was too mean for him to enter, 
 no bed too wretched to sit beside, where either pecuniary 
 aid was required to secure the necessaries of this life, or 
 spiritual exhortation wanting to turn a dying sinner to 
 repentance. His own pecuniary resources being very 
 scanty, he exerted himself unremittingly in obtaining, 
 from persons better able to afford it, the means of doing 
 good. The peculiar talent which he possessed of recom- 
 mending to the notice and sympathy cf others, any de- 
 serving objects of charity, and thus drawing forth from 
 all who heard him some little contribution towards their 
 relief, will long be remembered with delight, and ought 
 to be regarded as an example, by all who knew him. 
 The sums he thus collected were usually small, seldom 
 exceeding a few shillings from any individual at one 
 time; and yet such was the persevering industry with 
 which he pursued his object, that in the year 1823, his 
 accounts, in which he was extremely regular, contained 
 more than .€200, thus collected by himself within twelve 
 months, and judiciously applied to charitable purposes. 
 
 He was also an active co-operator in the labors of the 
 benovolent societies in his vicinity. 
 
 Mr. Mart3''r's zeal and judgment were no less conspic- 
 uous in availing himself of every favorable opportunity 
 for introducing into ordinary conversation the all-impor- 
 tant subjects of religion. He did this in language at 
 once energetic and uncompromising, yet without that in- 
 discreet and intrusive forwardness which sometimes injures 
 the high cause it is meant to serve. 
 
 His disposition was so cheerful, his manner so mild 
 and conciliating, and every pious thought appeared to 
 come so warmly from his heart, that the attention of even 
 the most indifferent hearer was for a while arrested by 
 what he said on religious subjects. 
 
192 CHARLES MARTYR. 
 
 In visiting the poor, he was most earnest and indefat- 
 igable in endeavors to better their spiritual condition ; al- 
 ways carrying to their houses some copies of the holy Scrip- 
 tures, and various religious tracts, for distribution, and fre- 
 quently occupyuig several hours in a day in reading to 
 those who, either from infirmity, or want of education, 
 were unable, without such assistance, to enjoy this privi- 
 lege. 
 
 Much might be added to the extracts alreadj^ given 
 from Mr. Martj-r's valuable papers ; but it is necessary, 
 that 1 should hasten to offer some brief account of the last 
 few months of his Hfe, and especially of its closing scene. 
 In April, 1825, he obtained the appointment of Purser to 
 the ' Ordinary' at Chatham, which, together with the 
 society of several warm and pious friends in that neigh- 
 borhood, once more held out to him a prespect of inde- 
 pendence and worldly comfort. In the course of that 
 summer, hov/ever, the disease with which he had been so 
 long afflicted, began to exhibit still more dangerous symp- 
 toms, an internal abscess having evidently been formed, 
 leaving little hope of ultimate recovery. Fully aware as 
 he was of his own state, for several months previous to 
 his decease, his pious cheerfulness never forsook him. 
 Even in the midst of bodily anguish, he constantly ex- 
 erted himself in sustaining the spirits of his much loved 
 relations, and never was he heard to utter a single mur- 
 mur or complaint on his own account. If, with a mind 
 so habitually prepared for death, any earthly thought 
 could have occasioned his distress, it must have been the 
 prospect of leaving his family in a world so full of sin and 
 sorrow. But such was the strength by which he was 
 mercifully supported in this prospect, that even this could 
 not rob him of the Christian's peace and consolation in the 
 
CHARLES MARTYR. 19S 
 
 approach of dissolution. With the writer of this memoir 
 he conversed frequentlj^ and unreservedly upon this sub- 
 ject, and alvvaj^s with a calmness which none but a sin- 
 cere believer can experience at such a crisis. 
 
 " With respect to myself," said he, " blessed be God, I 
 have not a single doubt remaining. I trust — I feel that 
 I am ready to depart. Nor do I experience any appre- 
 hension concerning those so dear to me on earth ; for he 
 without whose permission not even a sparrow falleth to 
 the ground, has graciously assured us that his reasonable 
 creatures are of m.ore value than many sparrows : and to 
 his care and guidance I leave them without fear or dis- 
 trust." 
 
 Thus prepared for death, he received its final summons 
 with composure, and even with joy. After various atten- 
 uations of pain and comparative relief, the abscess at 
 length burst on the 7th of December, producing for some 
 days constant and exquisite suffering, as w^ell as increas- 
 ing emaciation and debility. The rest will be best told in 
 the words of an affecting funeral sermon preached on the 
 occasion of his death, by an eminently pious clergyman, 
 who had long known and appreciated his excellence, and 
 was constantly near him throughout his last illness. 
 
 " During his last hours, he was calm and full of hope; 
 he had joy in his expected rest. 
 
 The way was rough and painful to his mortal frame ; 
 but he knew that he had in heaven a better and an en- 
 during substance. Such blessed knowledge comforts, re- 
 freshes, and fills the soul ; it raises a man above himself. 
 Every trial of the Christian is assuredly appointed by God 
 in love and mercy. 
 
 If he chastens, he sustains, and refines when he tries. 
 When faith is in lively exercise, it will bear a man above 
 
194 CHARLES MARTYR. 
 
 great distresses ; for it er^ables him to discern a merciful 
 providence, sure promises, and a faithful God. It was 
 this which sustained our departed brother. No complaint 
 was ever heard to escape from his lips. He was fully 
 aware of the near approach of his dissolution : he said, * I 
 am dying, I am going to leave you ; but I am prepared 
 for the event — I am happy ! ' He desired his friends 
 around him to pray that he might be dismissed to his rest. 
 He said himself. Lord Jesus, come near unto me ; and, if 
 it be thy will, release me ! He exhorted those around 
 him, as his last hour approached, to be reconciled with 
 God, and expressed his earnest wish that his children 
 should be brought up in his fear. He repeatedly said, 
 with great energy, ' No pain, and no fears.' He clasped 
 his hands together, and exclaimed, ' Come, come.' His 
 whole manner was marked by an anxious desire to relieve 
 the minds of those about him. 
 
 Nothing could be more peaceful than his final dissolu- 
 tion. For the last three or four hours he seemed to be 
 dying, but life again appeared. At length, however, his 
 happy spirit was released, and returned to God who gave 
 it Thus, at the early age of thirty-three years, this faith- 
 ful servant of God •' fell asleep in Jesus.' " 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 MR. WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 THE RUINED OUTCAST SAVED. 
 
 •' I had my descent from parents of the church of Eng- 
 land, and was born in Westmeath, in the kingdom of Ire- 
 land, in the year 1721. My father died at the good old 
 age of seventy, while I was yet young. He was a re- 
 putable farmer, a person of great modesty, temperance, 
 decency of conduct, and the strictest honesty. Though 
 he gave abundantly to the poor, his substance increased. 
 The Lord prospered him in his undertakings; he took 
 great pains to bring up his children in the fear of God, 
 bestowing on us what, in his eyes, at least, was a liberal 
 education. Alas ! neither his care nor his example had 
 the desired effect on me. To lie and to swear were lea- 
 sons I had but too great a docility in acquiring ; my heart 
 burnt with unholy passions, before I reached my sixteenth 
 year, nor did I omit any opportunity of gratifying them, 
 being satisfied if I could hide from man, seldom consider- 
 ing that God's all-seeing eye was upon me; yet my con- 
 science at times rebuked me severely, well knowing that 
 I was breaking the commands of God. 
 
 In 1741, I married the only daughter of a wealthy 
 
196 WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 tallow-chandler and soap-boiler in the town of Drogheda. 
 I lived with my father-in-law till his death, learned his 
 business and in light of my wife, became heir to his for- 
 tune. 
 
 My wife died in 1745, and within two years I married 
 again, an heiress as before, by whom I. obtained a consid- 
 erable fortune. 1 was thus enabled to enlarge the sphere 
 of my business, which I now carried on with considerable 
 success. In 1755, I was sworn in mayor of Drogheda, 
 I now indulged in riotous excesses, which brought on 
 that puuishment which Providence has, in the natural 
 course of things, connected with intemperance. Before 
 the year of my magistracy was expired, I was seized 
 with a violent fit of the gout, and remained three months 
 in the utmost torture. My irreligious situation left me 
 no resources in God ; my im.patience was uncontrolled ; 
 1 often wished myself dead ; but the God of all mercy 
 was deaf to my wicked prayers, and restored me to 
 health. I knew not then how to admire the riches of his 
 goodness and forbearancr, and had no idea of that unut- 
 terable kindness for which he had reserved me. When 
 my anguish in some measure abated, my conscience se- 
 verely rebuked me for continuing in sin and rebellion 
 against a merciful God. I determined, but alas, in my 
 own strength, to lead a new life, and never more to offend. 
 The consequence was what might be expected, when 
 there is no other dependence than on the arm of flesh ; as 
 soon as health and strength permitted, I broke through 
 all my resolutions, and ran to my darling vice, ' like the 
 dog to his vomit.' ' Can the Etheopian change his skin, 
 or the leopard his spots? then may ye also do good that 
 are accustomed to do evil,' where no power but that of 
 nature is concerned. I went on in a continual hurry of 
 business; all appearance of religion ceased, public and 
 
WILLIAM HOWARD. 197 
 
 private worship were both neglected entirely ; worldly 
 business and sensual gratification by turns engrossed me; 
 and the bountiful Giver of all good things was never 
 mentioned, except in blasphemy and profaneness. What 
 blessing could indeed attend a life spent in the service of 
 sin, and in rebellion against the Most High? Surely 
 nothing but his tender mercy could save so vile a wretch 
 from total perdition." 
 
 The narrative from which the above account is taken, 
 proceeds to give a distinct account of his commercial 
 concerns and engagements. A man so deeply immersed 
 in wickedness could not be supposed to be very prudent 
 in his affairs. He became embarrassed, and finally failed. 
 Alluding to this unfortunate result, his account proceeds 
 thus. 
 
 " After my failure in November, 1770, my heart still 
 unhumbled under the mighty hand of God, remained un- 
 der the power of sin, amidst all the variegated scenes of 
 flight, exile and distress. In London I found a new 
 world, overspread with allurements to captivate my soul ; 
 and my conduct was, as before, equally foolish and wick- 
 ed. There is, however, such a thing as satiety in vice, 
 even where the real love of it is not at all diminished. 
 This was my case. The large draughts of sin and folly 
 which I had taken in at the metropolis, occasioned it. I 
 felt a wish to retire to some remote corner of England, 
 where I might live at a cheap rate, and safe from my 
 creditors. A generous friend providentially supplied me, 
 at a time when I was involved in the deepest distress, 
 and enabled me to put this scheme itno execution. I left 
 London about the middle of May, 1772, with a view to 
 18 
 
198 WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 retire into Yorkshire. In this journey I reached the 
 Humber, a large river that divides Lincohishire from 
 Yorkshire.^ While I waited for the passage-boat, I ob- 
 served 1.1 pon the opposite side, some miles to the left, a 
 beautiful village, standing on an eminence near the river, 
 finely adorned with trees and stately buildings. i To me 
 it seemed an earthl}^ paradise. Better than that it proved ; 
 for there my heaven began. I was informed that its 
 name was Ferriby, eight miles from Hull, several of 
 whose opulent merchants adorned it in the manner which ' 
 had so strongly feasted my sight. 1 felt myself, how- 
 ever, determined to live there, and found a public house 
 for my reception. The village fully answered my ideas, 
 beautiful beyond description by ts delightful situation, 
 and elegant improvements. 1'here was a church served 
 by the Rev. Joseph Milner He was lecturer at the High 
 Church in Hull, where he resided, teaching the public 
 grammar school there, and preaching on the Sunday 
 mornings at Ferriby, I went constantly to hear him, 
 though with no other motive than that mechanical kind 
 of habit which disposes us to do as our neighbors do. 
 Little attention did I pay to anything which cam.e from 
 his lips. His sermons became long and tedious. Worldly 
 sorrow left no room with me for pious meditation. 1 felt my- 
 self miserable indeed, but had no ideal of applying to that, 
 which alone could make me happy. Indeed the transi- 
 tory things of time and sense can make no man happy. 
 In the time of my greatest prosperity it was with me, as 
 with every person who is a stranger to the grace of God. 
 
 That cruel something unpossessed, 
 Corrodes and leavens all the rest. 
 
 How is it possible that it should be otherwise. Not all 
 created things can fill the capacious desires of the immor- 
 
WILLIAM HOWARD. 199 
 
 tal soul. No, nothing short of the Creator's love, im- 
 planted in the soul by the operation of the Holy Ghost, 
 can complete its felicity, and give it to experience the 
 real good of man. 
 
 I passed some time in a distressed state of m.ind, re- 
 flecting with bitterness on my hard fate and worldly 
 trouble. About the beginning of August, instead of go- 
 ing to church on the Lord's day as usual, I sauntered by 
 the river side to kill time ; when I was suddenly seized 
 with a violent disorder in my head, and fell down terrified, 
 fearing I was dying, and I prayed to God to spare me, 
 which he mercifully did. In an hour's time 1 arrived at 
 my lodgings ; and in a few days recovered of my frightful 
 apprehension of a sudden death. But a violent head-ache 
 ensued, the anguish of which, in a great m eaiire, dissi- 
 pated my worldly sorrow. I concluded that the judg- 
 ment of God was upon me, for neglecting public worship 
 which I therefore determined to omit no more. 
 
 I now paid more attention to the preacher, who, I ob- 
 served, seemed to enforce his doctrine with much earnest- 
 ness, and positively dec ared over and over again, that 
 except a man be converted, he cannot see the kingdom of 
 God. All the conclusion I drew from such an assertion, 
 was, that ' too much learn ng had made him mad.' 
 
 On Sunday, March 28, 1773, my happiness began, 
 though it appeared to me indeed, a day of terror. How- 
 ever, it was the day on which ' the fear of the Lord, 
 which is the beginning of wisdom,' took hold of my rebel 
 heart. 
 
 Mr. Milner preached from these words ' Marvel not at 
 this: for the hour is coming, in which all that are in their 
 graves, shall hear his voice and come forth, they that 
 have done good to the resurrection of life, and they that 
 
200 WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation." No 
 sooner was the text delivered, than the word reached my 
 heart ' quick, and powerful, sharper than a two edged 
 sword.' Wo is me, thought I, for I am undone. The 
 vengeance of God has at last overtaken me for my num- 
 berless crimes. I was so confounded that I knew not a 
 word the preacher said after giving out his text : even 
 that I forgot. On returning home I begged my host to 
 show me the text. On looking it over, I told him that I 
 was undone; that the words it contained, condemned me 
 to the resurrection of damnation; that, instead of doing 
 good, I had spent my whole life in doing evil. He en- 
 deavored to comfort me, but in vain. I now began to 
 pray from a wounded spirit, and humbled myself before 
 God, confessing my sins, and crying out for mercy, if 
 peradventure he would hear me. Cards and various van- 
 ities which I before followed, appeared now so unsuita- 
 ble to my condition, that I gave them all up. But how 
 to be pardoned for my past sins, I knew not. There re- 
 mained a heavy burden on my soul. I retired every day 
 to a grove at a little distance, to pray and read the Bible» 
 a book I had rarely looked into for many yea.YS. I could 
 open no part of it, but it showed me what a hell-deserving 
 sinner I was. This increased my affliction. I now 
 deeply lamented my deplorable state, and wept bitterly 
 for my sins; my rejection of my father's good counsels 
 was as a dagger to my heart. I continued a whole week 
 without hope, dreading that the wrath of God would 
 send me to hell, never thinking of a Savior, but imagin- 
 ing my sins were too heinous to be forgiven. * So foolish 
 and ignorant was I, as it were a beast before God.' And 
 so great was the anguish of my soul, that 1 lamented that 
 God had spared Noah and his family. ' Oh, had tbe^ 
 
YflLLlAM HOWARD. 201 
 
 also been swept awaj by the deluge, then I had never 
 been ! ' 'A wounded spirit who can bear?' This world 
 was now as insipid to me, as a jest to a dying man. 
 
 The next Sabbath, Mr. IMilner preached from the fol- 
 lowing words: ' God so loved the world, that he gave his 
 only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should 
 not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not 
 his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that 
 the wo:id through him may be saved.' He proclaimed 
 God's most gracious pardon for the most abandoned sin- 
 ner that would forsake his sins, repent, and believe in Je- 
 sus, whose precious blood cleanseth from all sins, however 
 heinous or numerous. God be thanked, I received some 
 consolation from that discourse ; hope revived, and glad- 
 ness dawned within me. My prejudice, as a churchman, 
 against those of other denominations, was now so re- 
 moved, that I went in the evening, for the first time, to a 
 neighboring village, to hear Mr. Bottomley, a dissenting 
 minister. His discourse ^vas as an arrow to my soul, 
 though I was not without glimmerings of hope. 1 pro- 
 ceeded joyfully for some days, imploring God's forgive- 
 ness, for the sake of Jesus, and the guidance of his Holy 
 Spirit. I renounced my own righteousness, being v^holly 
 sensible of my vileness, and of God's unbounded good- 
 ness in still sparing me. 
 
 Satan, enraged at my giving up all hope of my own 
 righteousness, now cast a stumbling-block in my way, in 
 hope of stopping my progress, by filling my mind with 
 atheism. I was terrified beyond expression ; cold drops 
 of sweat fell from me. I arose from prayer, and ran 
 about the grove as one distracted, struggling, but in vain, 
 against the blasphemous infection. I was now hopeless, 
 indeed ; but that God ' who is nigh to the broken-hearted,' 
 *18 
 
202 WILLTAM HOWAHD. 
 
 relieved me, bj^ fixing one of his faithful promises so pow- 
 erfully in my heart, that my atheism was instantly burned 
 to stubble. The promise was ' Seek and ye shall find;' 
 a promise worth more to me than all the mines of Peru, 
 and which supported me in all my subsequent trials. 1 
 was soon composed enough to renew my supplications, 
 and to lift up my heart in thanksgiving to God for my 
 deliverance. My soul was filled with a pleasing expecta- 
 tion that, by seeking the Lord, I should surely find him ; 
 and I knew distinctly, for the first time, what is meant 
 by resting on a divine promise. I pressed forward with 
 strong desire, laboring to see the Savior, with the eye of 
 faith, bleeding on his cross, and would have given the 
 world to call him my own. And though I waver- 
 ed often, through the power of unbelief, yet, on the 
 whole, I constantl}^ fed on the promise, ' Seek and ye 
 SHALL find.' The shall of the Almighty was an an- 
 chor of hope to my soul, sure and steadfast, and I was 
 enabled to conclude that he would at length appear for 
 my relief. 
 
 The third week of my conviction, the tempter made a 
 new attack, suggesting, that as I had lived to grey hairs 
 in the service of sin, I must by a long course of repentance, 
 work myself into a state of holiness, before I could be par- 
 doned ; a mistake which cost me many a sorrowful hour. 
 For no sooner had self set up his standard, than I felt my 
 heart stony for the first time. Sometimes at pra3'er, it 
 seemed as if it were a ball of iron within me. I could 
 not now shed tears as before, which greatly distressed 
 me; but I was not forsaken: the still, small, but power- 
 ful voice of God, sounded in my heart every day, drawing 
 me with the cords of love. The Spirit of God caused 
 my soul to aspire after heavenly things, and forget world- 
 
WILLIAM HOWARD. 203 
 
 \y cares, as if I had been new born. ' How wonderful 
 art thou, Lord, in all thy ways ! how great are thy mer- 
 cies to the children of men ! ' 
 
 I omitted no opportunity of hearing Mr. Milner preach, 
 and Mr. Bottomley, who often delivered the strongest gos- 
 pel encouragements, ' to comfort those that mourn.' 
 Nevertheless, I was not able to laj' hold of any, but that 
 precious one which has been mentioned, and which the 
 Lord made to be sufficient for my hour of need. They 
 labored likewise to describe man's fall in Adam, and our 
 depravity of heart by nature ; but this was a point of 
 doctrine, as yet, hid from me. Often did 1 complain to 
 God of my actual sins; but the bitter root of a sinful 
 nature I saw not, nor was I rightly convinced of my 
 nothingness in myself. In solitude I mourned for my 
 sins, still hoping that God would in his good time, 
 grant me my heart's desire. In the mean time, some of 
 my acquaintance believed I was falling into despair. 
 
 The sixth week of my conviction, the parish clerk 
 informed me that Mr. Milner would be at his house the 
 Saturday evening following, when I might have an op- 
 portunit}' of a personal interview with him. I gladly 
 accepted the offer, and longed for the approaching 
 time. 
 
 He received me with much affection, and said he was 
 glad to hear I wished to seek the Lord, and depart from 
 evil. I related to him my distress for six weeks past, 
 how I was awakened under his ministry, and was not 
 without hope of divine forgiveness ; that I rested on my 
 Savior's promise, " Seek, and ye shall find," and firmly 
 believed that he could not break his word. But as I had 
 spent my whole life in doing evil, I was confident that 
 my pardon could only be procured on the condition of a 
 long course of repentance. 
 
204 WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 He desired that I would truly answer him one question 
 remembering that I was in God's presence, from whom 
 no secret can be hid. ' Do you believe,' said he, ' that 
 God would be just if he banished you to hell ? ' I an- 
 swered, 'Most assuredly, if that were his pleasure, as there 
 never lived a more infamous wretch than mj'self.' How- 
 ever, I believed his judgments were mixed with mercy, 
 otherwise 1 must have been in hell thirty years ago ; for 
 that my whole life had been one continued scene of trans- 
 gression. 
 
 ' I have now,' said he, ' great hopes that you are not 
 far from happiness. But how is it that you expect pardon 
 for the merit of your repentance ? Do you know your 
 state by nature, that it is not in you, by reason of indwel- 
 ling sin, either to repent, to believe, or even to think one 
 really good thought? You must be dependent upon 
 divine grace for all these things. As he understood by 
 my answer, my ignorance of the true doctrine of the fall, 
 he showed me that God created Adam upright, and after 
 his own image; that by his disobedience, he forfeited 
 the divine favor, and brought down a curse on himself 
 and all his posterity ; that hence we are all ' by nature 
 children of wrath, earthly, sensual and devilish;' that 
 he himself was equally guilty with me, though he had 
 never gone into those lengths of gross immorality which 
 I had done ; yet that his heart was naturally corrupt, 
 being estranged from God by the veil of darkness that 
 covers our hearts through the extreme corruption of na- 
 ture ; that all without exception, remain under the power 
 of that darkness, and under the curse of the divine law, 
 till \hey experience redemption by believing in Christ, 
 whose blood alone, and not our works, can atone for our 
 sins, and justify us in the sight of God ; for ' cursed is 
 
WILLIAM HOWARD. 205 
 
 every one that continueth not in all things written in the 
 book of the law to do them.' ' Now,' added he, ' the 
 Holy Spirit hath convinced you what a vile sinner you 
 are, humbled your stubborn heart to godly sorrow, and 
 prepared you to receive God's most gracious pardon, and 
 as one of Christ's ministers, I will lay the divine invita- 
 tion before you, that you. may be reconciled to Him, by 
 accepting a pardon of all your sins ; and may live the 
 rest of your days to his glory.' He then opened to me the 
 following passage of Scripture. ' Now then, we are 
 ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you 
 by us, we pray you in Christ's stead, Be 3'e reconciled to 
 God. For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew 
 no sin ; that we might be made the righteousness of God 
 in him.' ' I now stand in St. Paul's place,' says he, 
 * and beg you to believe this invitation, and accept the 
 pardon of all your sins, which Christ has purchased for 
 3^ou, and which God freely bestows on you, for his sake. 
 On my reading the invitation, my soul was humbled in 
 the dust, and I cried out, ' Dear sir, how can 1 believe 
 that God should invite a sinful wretch like me, to be rec- 
 onciled to him ? ' He laid open to me many passages of 
 Scripture, all tending to confirm the same thing ; among 
 others, the well known parable of the prodigal son, de- 
 claring that the invitation, ' we pray you in Christ's stead, 
 be ye reconciled to God,' was God's own word spoken by 
 his servant Paul, through the inspiration of the Holy 
 Ghost ; adding that ' God's thoughts are not as man's 
 thoughts, nor his ways as our ways.' 
 
 Notwithstanding all that he said, I could not believe it 
 to be God's invitation, but imagined it might be a mistake 
 in the printing of his Bible, and wished to see how it 
 "Vvas in niine. Nevertheless I concealed my intention, 
 
206 WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 and desired leave to retire a little, promising soon to 
 return. I hastened to my lodgings, and eagerly opened 
 the same place, and found the very same words. 1 fixed 
 my eyes wishfully on the invitation, a few moments. A 
 great weakness seized me, that I could neither pray nor 
 utter a word ; I was truly helpless. Then it was, that 
 my God and Savior manifested his strength in my 
 weakness. Quick as lightning the Holy Ghost took 
 possession of my heart, and filled all my faculties with 
 heavenly delight. My tongue or pen can very faintly 
 describe it. All the bliss 1 had ever enjoyed was no more 
 like it, than midnight darkness is like the meridian sun. 
 It was heaven indeed, something of the real nature of 
 heaven I then enjoyed. My soul was wrapt in the em- 
 braces of the adorable Jesus. And I was so overpowered 
 with holy love, that for nearly half an hour, I forgot 
 there was such a person as Mr. Milner. At length I re- 
 turned, and exclaimed aloud, that the Holy Ghost was 
 in ray heart, and that God was in Christ, reconcihng the 
 world to himself. My Lord's never failing promise, 
 ' Seek and ye shall find,' was made good to my now hap- 
 py soul. Glory be to thee, O Lord my God, whose 
 mercy and truth endureth from generation to generation, 
 and never faileth. I spent the ensuing night in singing 
 praises to my God and Savior, who purchased my pardon 
 with his blood, feasting my soul with fatness and heaven- 
 ly delight; ' the Spirit of God witnessing with my Spirit 
 that I was born of God, and a joint heir with Christ.' 
 How insignificant did this world, with all its grandeur 
 appear to me who had ' Ch ist the hope of glorj^' for my 
 everlasting treasure! [ then experienced indeed the 
 truth of the doctrine which 1 had heard from the pulpit, 
 that ' except a man be born again, he canriot see the 
 
WILLIAM HOWARD. 207 
 
 kingdom of God.' And this blessing is to be felt in hap- 
 py experience. 'For at that day,' says our Lord, 'ye 
 shall know that 1 am in my Father and ye in me, and I 
 in you.' 1 heartily wish none who read this, may rest 
 satisfied without the same experience; 'for if any man 
 have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.' ' Know 
 ye not,' says St. Paul, writing to the Corinthian believers, 
 • that ye are the temple of God, and the Spirit of God 
 dwelleth in you ? ' 
 
 Fired with zeal for the Redeemer's cause, I now felt 
 myself disposed to warn all I met with, to repent and be- 
 lieve the gospel, that they might be saved, declaring what 
 great things the Lord had done for me, the worst of 
 sinners. 
 
 I wrote an account of these things to my nephew at 
 Dublin, giving him and the rest of my relations, the best 
 instructions I could, by which they might obtain the 
 same preciors gift. They concluded that I was beside 
 myself, in consequence of which, my nephew despatched 
 a friend to visit me, who on his return, removed their fears, 
 by informing them of the change that had taken place in 
 my conversation and conduct. 
 
 In March, 1774, I went to London, and there heard 
 various preachers of the gospe of Christ. All enlightened 
 teachers cf every denomination, I was enabled to see, are 
 instruments in the Lord's hands, 'for turning sinners 
 from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to 
 God.' After some time I returned to Dublin. My nephew 
 and the rest of my family received me joyfully. 
 
 During my short stay, I had some of my relations and 
 acquaintances often with me. I labored to convince them 
 of their deplorable state by nature and practice, and to 
 show them the necessity of conversion. Nor were my 
 
208 WILLIAM HOWARD. 
 
 labors lost ; my wife was convinced of her unworthiness, 
 was led to true repentance, and was blessed with a sense 
 of the love of Christ. After this, she declined in health, 
 and departed this life, having hope in her death ; and en- 
 tered into the joy of her Lord, She was the first ripe 
 fruit that God was pleased to bestow upon my labors. 
 Others of them became rather uneasy, and went to hear 
 preachers, whom before they had treated with con- 
 tempt. Glory be to God, my journey to Dublin was not 
 in vain ! 
 
 I longed to hear Christ's ministers, and to assemble 
 with his people. The Lord my God conveyed me in 
 safety, where I enjoyed that glorious privilege ; ' There- 
 fore praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his 
 benefits, who pardoneth all thy sins, and healeth all thine 
 infirmities.' " 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 COL. JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 THE POWER OP GRACE. 
 
 Colonel James Gardiner was born at Carriden, in Lin- 
 lithgowshire, on the 10th of January A. D. 1687-8. His 
 father Captain Patrick Gardiner, served many years in the 
 army of King William and Glueen Anne, and died abroad 
 with the British forces in Germany in the year 1692. 
 His mother took care to instruct him with great tender- 
 ness and aifection in the principles of true Christianity. 
 He was also trained up to human literature, and made 
 very considerable attainments in its various branches. 
 
 Could his pious mother have prevailed, he would not 
 have thought of a military life. But it suited his taste; 
 and the ardor of his spirit, animated by the persuasions of 
 other friends, was not to be restrained. He enlisted in the 
 army at a very early age, and signalized himself in many 
 battles, by his remarkable courage and bravery. So well 
 did he approve himself in his miUtary character, that he 
 was promoted from one post of honor and authority to 
 another, till, in 1743, he received a Colonel's commission 
 over a regiment of dragoons ; at the head of which he 
 valiantly fell, in the defence of his sovereign and his 
 19 
 
210 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 country, about two years and a half, after he received it. 
 Very little is known of the particulars of those wild, 
 thoughtless and wretched j'ears, between the 19th and 
 30th ofhis life ; except it be, that he frequently experi- 
 enced the divine goodness, in preserving him in several 
 hot military actions, in which he never received so much 
 as a wound, forward as he was in tempting danger ; and 
 yet, that all these years were spent in an entire alienation 
 from God, and an eager pursuit of animal pleasure, as his 
 supreme good. 
 
 But I hasten to that most astonishing part of his histo- 
 ry, the account of his conversion ; which I cannot enter 
 upon, without assuring the reader, that I have sometimes 
 been tempted to suppress many circumstances of it ; not 
 only as they may seem incredible to some, and enthusias- 
 tical to others, but as I am very sensible they are liable 
 to great abuses ; which was the reason he gave me for 
 concealing the most extraordinary from many persons to 
 •whom he mentioned some of the rest. And 1 believe it 
 was this, together with the desire of avoiding everything 
 that might look like ostentation on this head, that pre- 
 vented his leaving a written account of it; though I have 
 often entreated him to do it, as I particularly remember I 
 did, in the very last letter I ever wrote him, and pleading 
 the possibility of his falling amidst those dangers, to 
 which I knew his valor might in such circumstances 
 naturally expose him. I was not so happy as to receive 
 any answer to this letter, which reached him but a few 
 daj's before his death ; nor can I certainly say, whether 
 he had, or had not, complied w^ith my request ; as it is 
 very possible a paper of that kind, if it were written, might 
 be lost amidst the ravages which the rebels made, when 
 they plundered Bankton. 
 
JAMES GARDINER. 211 
 
 The story, however, was so remarkable, that I had little 
 reason to apprehend I should ever forget it ; and yet, to 
 guard against all contingencies of that kind, I wrote it 
 down the very evening, I heard it from his own mouth ; 
 and I have now before me the account of that conversa- 
 tion, dated August 14, 1739, which concludes with these 
 words; (which I added that if we should both have died 
 that night, the world might not have lost this edifying 
 and affecting history, or have wanted any attestation of 
 it I was capable of giving;) " N. B. I have written 
 down this account with all the exactness I am capable 
 of, and could safely take an oath of it as to the truth of 
 every circumstance, to the best of my remembrance as the 
 Colonel related it to me a few hours ago." I do not 
 know that I had reviewed this paper since I wrote it, till 
 I set m^yself thus publicly to record this extraordinary 
 fact; but I find it punctually to agree with what I have 
 often related from my memory, which I charged care- 
 fully with so wonderful and im.portant a fact. It is 
 with all solemnity that I now deliver it down to posterity, 
 as in the sight and presence of God. And I choose de- 
 liberately to expose mj^self to those severe censures, which 
 the haughty, bat empty scorn or infidelity, on principles 
 nearly approaching to it, and effectually doing its pei- 
 nicious work, may very probably dictate upon the occa- 
 sion, rather than to smother a relation, which may, in the 
 judgment of my conscience, be likely to conduce so much 
 to the glory of God, the honor of the gospel, and the 
 good of mankind. One thing more I will only premise, 
 that I hope none who have heard the Colonel himself 
 speak something of this wonderful scene, will be sur- 
 prised if they find some new circumstances here ; because 
 he assured me, at the time he first gave me the whole 
 
212 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 narration, that he had never imparted it so fully to any 
 man hving before. Yet, at the same time, he gave me 
 full liberty to communicate it to whomsoever I should in 
 my conscience judge it might be useful to do it, whether 
 before or after his death. Accordingly I did, while he 
 was alive, recount almost every circumstance 1 am now 
 going to write, to several pious friends ; referring them at 
 the same time to the Colonel himself, whenever they 
 might have an opportunity of seeing or writing to him, 
 for a farther confirmation of what I told them, if they 
 judged it requisite. They glorified God in him ; and I 
 humbly hope many of my readers will also do it. They 
 will soon perceive the reason of so much caution in my 
 introduction to this story, for which therefore I shall make 
 no farther apology. 
 
 This memorable event happened towards the middle of 
 July, 1719; but I cannot be exact as to the day. The 
 major had spent the evening, (and, if I mistake not, it 
 was the Sabbath,) in some gay company, and had a 
 wicked appointment with a companion in sin, whom he 
 was to attend exactly at twelve. The company broke up 
 about eleven ; and, not judging it convenient to antici- 
 pate the time appointed, he went into his chamber to kill 
 the tedious hour, perhaps with some amusing book, or in 
 some other way. But it very accidentally [providential- 
 ly?] happened, that he took up a religious book, which 
 his good mother or aunt had, without his knowledge, 
 slipped into his portmanteau. It was called, if I remem- 
 ber the title exactly, The Christian Soldier, or Heaven 
 taken by Storm ; and was written by Mr. Thomas Wat- 
 son. Guessing by the title of it, that he should find 
 some phrases of his own profession spiritualized, in a 
 manner which he thought might afford him some diver- 
 
JAMES GARDIXLR. 213 
 
 sion, he resolved to dip into it ; but lie took no serious 
 notice of anything he read in it ; and yet, while this 
 book was in his hand, an iujpression was n)ade upon his 
 mind, (perhaps God only knows how,) which drew 
 after it a train of the most important and happy con- 
 sequences. 
 
 There is indeed a possibility, that while he was sitting 
 in this attitude, and reading in this careless and profane 
 manner, he might suddenly fall asleep, and only dream 
 of what he apprehended he saw. But nothing can be 
 more certain, than that, when he gave me this relation, 
 he judged himself to have been as broad aw^ake, during 
 the whole time, as he ever was in any part of his life ; 
 and he mentioned it to me several times afterwards, as 
 what undoubtedly passed, not only in his imagination, but 
 before his eyes. 
 
 He thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall on 
 the book while he was reading, which he at first imagined 
 might happen by some accident in the candle. But 
 lifting up his eyes, he apprehended to his extreme amaze- 
 ment, that there was before him, as it were suspended in 
 the air, a visible representation of the Lord Jesus Christ 
 upon the cross, surrounded on all sides with a glory ; and 
 was impressed, as if a voice, or something equivalent to a 
 voice, had come to him, to this effect, (for he was not 
 confident as to the very words,) '• O sinner, did I suffer 
 this for thee, and are these the returns?" But whether 
 this were an audible voice, or only a strong impression on 
 his mind equally striking, he did not seem very confident •, 
 though, to the best of my remembrance, he rather judged 
 it to be the former. Struck with so amazing a pheno- 
 menon as this, there remained hardly any life in him, so 
 that he sunk back in the arm-chair, in which he sat, 
 *19 
 
214 JAMi:S GAKDINEK. 
 
 and continued, he knew not how long, insensible; which 
 was one circumstance, that made me several times take 
 the liberty to suggest, that he might have been all this 
 time asleep ; but however that were, he quickly after 
 opened his eyes, and saw nothing more than usual. 
 
 It may easily be supposed, he was in no condition to 
 make any observation upon the lime, in which he had 
 remained in an insensible state. Nor did he, throughout 
 all the remainder of the night, once recollect that crimi- 
 nal appointment, which had before engrossed all his 
 thoughts. He rose in a tumult of passions, not to be 
 conceived ; and walked to and fro in his chamber, till he 
 was ready to drop down, in unutterable astonishment and 
 agony of heart ; appearing to himself the vilest monster 
 in the creation of God, who had all his life-time been cru- 
 cifying Christ afresh by his sins, and now saw, as he 
 really believed, by a miraculous vision, the horror of what 
 he had done. With this was connected such a view, 
 both of the majesty and goodness of God, as caused him 
 to loathe and abhor himself, and to repent as in dust and 
 ashes. He immediately gave judgment against himself, 
 that he was most justly worthy of eternal damnation ; he 
 was astonished, that he had not been immediately struck 
 dead in the midst of his wickedness ; and (which I think 
 deserves particular remark,) though he assuredly be- 
 lieved that he should ere long be in hell, and settled it as 
 a point with himself for several months, that the wisdom 
 and justice of God did almost necessarily require, that 
 such an enormous sinner should be made an example of 
 everlasting vengeance, and a spectacle as such, both to 
 angels and to men, so that he hardly durst presume to 
 pray for pardon; yet what he then suffered, was not so 
 much from the fear of hell, though he concluded it would 
 
JAMES GARDINER. ^15 
 
 soon be his portion, as from a sense of that horrible in- 
 gratitude he had shown to the God of his life, and to that 
 blessed Redeemer, who had been, in so affecting a manner, 
 set forth crucified before him. 
 
 To this he refers in a letter, dated from Douglass, April 
 1, 1725, communicated to me by his lady, but I know 
 not to whom it was addressed. His words are these ; 
 " One thing relating to my conversion, and a remarkable 
 instance of the goodness of God to me, the chief of sin- 
 ners, I do not remember that I ever told to any other 
 person. It was this; that after the astonishing sight I 
 had of my blessed Lord, the terrible condition in which I 
 was, proceeded not so much from the terrors of the law, 
 as from a sense of having been so ungrateful a monster 
 to Him whom I thought I saw pierced for my transgres- 
 sions." I the rather insert these words, as they evidently 
 attest the circumstance which may seem most amazing 
 in this affair, and contain so express a declaration of his 
 own apprehension concerning it. 
 
 In this view- it may naturally be supposed, that he 
 passed the remainder of the night waking; and he could 
 get but little rest in several that followed. His mind 
 was continually taken up in reflecting on the divine good- 
 ness ; the grace which had been proposed to him in ihe 
 gospel, and w^hich he had rejected ; the singular advan- 
 tages he had enjoj'ed and abused; and the many favors 
 of providence, which he had received, particularly in res- 
 cuing him from so many imminent dangers of death, 
 which he now saw must have been attended with such 
 dreadful and hopeless destruction. The privileges of his 
 education which he had so much despised, now lay with 
 an almost insupportable weight upon his mind : and the 
 folly of that career of s'.nful pleasure, which he had so 
 
216 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 many years been running with desperate eagerness and 
 unworthy delight, now filled him with indignation 
 against himself, and against the great deceiver, by whom, 
 to use his own phrase, he had been " so wretchedly and 
 scandalously befooled." This he used often to express in 
 the strongest terms; which I shall not repeat so particu- 
 larly, as 1 can recollect only some of them. But on the 
 whole, it is certain, that by what passed before he left his 
 chamber the next day, the whole frame and disposition of 
 his soul was new modelled and changed ; so that he be- 
 came, and continued to the last day of his examplary and 
 truly Christian life, the very reverse of what he had been 
 before. A variety of particulars, which 1 am afterwards 
 to mention, will illustrate this in the most convincing 
 manner. But I cannot proceed to them, without pausing 
 awhile to adore so illustrious an instance of the power 
 and freedom of divine grace, and entreating my readei 
 seriously to reflect upon it, that his own heart maybe 
 suitably affected ; for surely, if the truth of the fact be ad- 
 mitted, in the lowest views in which it can be placed, 
 that is, supposing the first impression to have passed in a 
 dream, it must be allowed to have been little, if any thing 
 less, than miraculous. It cannot in the course of nature 
 be imagined, how such a dream should arise in a mind 
 full of the most impure ideas and aflfections, and, as he 
 himself often pleaded, more alienated from the thoughts 
 of a crucified Savior, than from any other object that can 
 be conceived ; nor can we surely suppose it should, with- 
 out a mighty energy of the divine power, be effectual to 
 produce, not only some transient flow of passion, but so 
 entire and permanent a change in character and con- 
 duct.* 
 
 *That this wonderful change was wrought by the supernatural en- 
 
JAMES GARDINER. 217 
 
 On the whole, therefore, I must beg leave to express 
 my own sentiments of the matter, by repeating on this 
 occasion, what I wrote several years ago, in my eighth 
 sermon on regeneration, in a passage dictated chiefly by 
 the circumstantial knowledge which I had of this amaz- 
 ing story, and methinks sufficiently vindicated by it, if 
 it stood entirely alone ; which yet, I must take the liberty 
 to say, it does not ; for I hope the world will be particu- 
 larly informed, that there is at least a second, that very 
 nearly approaches it, whenever the established church of 
 England shall lose one of its brightest living ornaments, 
 and one of the most useful members, which that, or per- 
 haps any other Christian communion, can boast : in the 
 meaniime, may his examplary life be long continued, and 
 his zealous ministry abundantly prospered ! * I beg my 
 reader's pardon for this digression. The passage in the 
 sermon referred to above is remarkably, though not equalh% 
 applicable to both the cases. After precedmg illustrations, 
 there are the following words, on which the colonel's con- 
 version will throw the justest light : " Yea, I have known 
 those of distinguished genius, polite manners and great 
 experience in human affairs, who, after having outgrown 
 all the impressions of a religious education, after having 
 been hardened, rather than subdued, by the most singular 
 
 ergy of the Holy Spirit, we have not the shadow of a doubt; 
 but we see no necessity of supposing that there was anything mirac- 
 ulous, either in the change itself, or in the circumstances which at- 
 tended it. The extraordinary vision, or overpowering mental im- 
 pression- of the moment, may, as Dr. Doddridge himself intimates, 
 be accounted for upon natural principles; and the work of regenera- 
 tion, supernatural as it always must be, is never, we believe, in 
 Scripture represented as a miraculous work. 
 
 * Rev. William Grimshaw, of whose conversion the reader will 
 find a short account in this volume. 
 
218 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 mercies, even various, repeated, and astonishing deliver- 
 ances, which have appeared to themselves no less than 
 miraculous ; after having lived for years without God in 
 the world, notoriously corrupt themselves, and laboring to 
 the utmost to corrupt others ; have stopped on a sudden 
 in the full career of their sin, and have felt such rays of 
 the divine presence, and of redeeming love, darting in 
 upon their minds, almost like lightning from heaven, as 
 have at once roused, overpowered, and transformed them. 
 So that they have come out of their secret chambers 
 with an irreconcilable enmity to those vices, to which, 
 when they entered them, they were the tamest and most 
 abandoned slaves; and have appeared from that very 
 hour, the votaries, the patrons, the champions of religion; 
 and after a course of the most resolute attachment to it, in 
 spite of all the reasonings or the railleries, the importuni- 
 ties, or the reproaches, of its enemies, they have continued 
 to this day some of its brightest ornaments: a change, 
 which I behold with equal wonder and delight, and 
 which, if a nation should join in deriding it, I would 
 adore as the finger of God." 
 
 The mind of Col. Gardiner continued from this remark- 
 able time till towards the end of October, that is, rather 
 more than three months, but especially the first two of 
 them, in as extraordinary a situation as one can well im- 
 agine. He knew nothing of the joys arising from a sense 
 of pardon ; but, on the contrar}', for the greater part of 
 that time, and with very short intervals of hope towards 
 the end of it, took it for granted, that he must, in all pro- 
 bability, quickly perish. Nevertheless he had such a 
 sense of the evil of sin, of the goodness of the divine Be- 
 ing, and of the admirable tendency of the Christian reve- 
 lation, that he resolved to spend the remainder of his life, 
 
JAMES GARDINER. 219 
 
 while God continued him out of hell, in as rational and 
 as useful a manner as he could ; and to continue casting 
 himself at the feet of divine mercy, every day, and often 
 in a da3^ if peradventure there might be hope of pardon, 
 of which all that he could say was, that he did not abso- 
 lutely despair. He had at that time such a sense of the 
 degeneracy of his own heart, that he hardly durst form 
 any determinate resolution against sin, or pretend to en- 
 gage himself by any vow in the presence of God ; but he 
 was continually crying to him, that he would deliver him 
 from the bondage of corruption. He perceived in himself 
 a most surprising alteration with regard to the disposi- 
 tions of his heart ; so that, though he felt lit lie of the de- 
 light of religious duties, he extremely desired opportuni- 
 ties of being engaged in them ; and those licentious pleas- 
 ures, which had before been his heaven, were now abso- 
 lutely his aversion. 
 
 Nor was he only delivered from that bondage of cor- 
 ruption, which had been habitual to him for so many 
 years, but felt in his breast so contrary a disposition, that 
 he was grieved to see hum.an nature, in those to whom he 
 was almost entirely a stranger, prostituted to such low 
 and contemptible pursuits. He therefore exerted his nat- 
 ural courage in a very new kind of combat, and became 
 an open advocate for religion, in all its principles, so far 
 as he was acquainted with them, and in all its precepts, 
 relating to sobriety, righteousness, and godliness. Yet 
 he was very desirous and cautious that he might not run 
 into an extreme, and made it one of his first petitions to 
 God, the very day after these amazing impressions had 
 been wrought in his mind, that he might not be suffered 
 to behave with such an affected strictness and preciseness, 
 as would lead others about him into mistaken notions of 
 
220 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 religion, and expose it to reproach or suspicion, as if it 
 were an anlovely or uncomfortable thing. For this reason, 
 he endeavored to appear as cheerful in conversation, as 
 he conscientiously could ; though, in spite of all his pre- 
 cautions, some traces of that deep inward sense which he 
 had of his guilt and misery, would, at times, appear. He 
 made no secret of it, however, that his views were entirely 
 changed, though he concealed the particular circum- 
 stances attending that change. He told his most inti- 
 mate companions freely, that he had reflected on the 
 course of life in which he had so long joined them, and 
 found it to be folly and madness, unworthy a rational 
 creature, and much more unworthy of persons calling 
 themselves Christians. And he set up his standard, up- 
 on all occasions, against the principles of infidelity, and 
 practices of vice, as determinatcly, and as boldly, as ever 
 he displaj^ed or planted his colors, when he bore them 
 with so much honor in the field. 
 
 I cannot forbear mentioning one struggle of this kind, 
 which he described to me with a large detail of circum- 
 stances, the first day of our acquaintance. There was at 
 that time, in Paris, a certain lady, whose name, then 
 well known in the grand and the gay world, I must beg 
 leave to conceal, who had imbibed the principles of 
 deism, and valued herself much upon being an avow- 
 ed advocate for them. The Colonel, with his usual 
 frankness, though I doubt not with the politeness of man- 
 ners which was so habitual to him, and which he retain- 
 ed throughout his whole life, answered her like a man 
 who perfectly saw through the fallacy of her arguments, 
 and was grieved to the heart for her delusion. On this 
 she briskly challenged him to debate the matter at large, 
 and to fix upon a day for that purpose, when he should 
 
JAMES GARDINER. 221 
 
 dine with her, attended with any clergyman he might 
 choose, whether of the Protestant or Cathohc communion. 
 A sense of duty would not allow him to decline this chal- 
 lenge ; and yet he had no sooner accepted it, than he was 
 thrown into great perplexity and distress, lest being (as I 
 remember he expressed it, when he told me the story,) 
 only a Christian of six wrecks old, he should prejudice so 
 good a cause, by his unskillful manner of defending it. 
 However, he sought his refuge in earnest and repeated 
 prayers to God, that he who can "ordain strength and 
 perfect praise, out of the mouths of babes and sucklings," 
 would graciously enable him, on this occasion, to vindi- 
 cate his truth in a manner which might carry conviction 
 along with it. 
 
 He then endeavored to marshal the arguments in his 
 own mind, as well as he could; and apprehending that 
 he could not speak with so much freedom before a num- 
 ber of persons, especially before those whose province he 
 might in that case seem to invade, if he had not devolved 
 the principal part of the discoiu'se upon them, he easily 
 excused the clergyman or two, to whom he mentioned 
 the affair, and waited on the lady alone, upon the day 
 appointed. But his heart was so set upon the business, 
 that he came earlier than he was expected, and time 
 enough to have two hours discourse before dinner; nor did 
 he at all decline having two young persons, nearly related 
 to the lady, present during the conference. 
 
 He opened it, with a view of such arguments for the 
 Christian religion as he had digested in his own mind, to 
 prove that the Apostles were not mistaken themselves, 
 and that ihey could not have intended to impose upon us, 
 in the accounts they give of the grand facts the}' attest; 
 with the truth of which facts, that of the Christian reU . 
 20 
 
222 JAMES GARDtNER, 
 
 gion is most apparently connected. And it was a great 
 encouragement to him to find, that, unaccustomed as he 
 was to discourses of this nature, he had an unusual com- 
 mand both of thought and expression ; so that he recol- 
 lected and uttered every thing as he could have wished. 
 The lady heard with attention ; and, though he paused 
 between every branch of the argument, she did not inter- 
 rupt the course of it, till he told her he had finished his 
 design, and waited for her reply. She then produced 
 some of her objections, which he look up and canvassed 
 in such a manner, that, at length, she burst out into tears, 
 allowed the force of his arguments and replies, and ap- 
 peared, for some time after, so deeply impressed with the 
 conversation, that it was observed by several of her friends, 
 and there is reason to believe, the impression continued, 
 at least so far as to prevent her ever appearing under the 
 character of an unbeliever or a sceptic. 
 
 This is only one specimen, among many of the battles 
 he was almost daily called to fight in the cause of reli- 
 gion and virtue ; with relation to which I find him ex- 
 pressing himself thus, in a letter to Mrs. Gardiner, his 
 good mother, dated from Paris, the 25th of January fol- 
 lowing, that is, 1719-20, in answer to one in which she 
 had warned him to expect such trials. " I have (says 
 he) already met with them, and am obliged to fight, and 
 to dispute every inch of ground : but all thanks and 
 praise to the great Captain of my salvation, he fights for 
 me ; and then it is no wonder, that I come off mere than 
 a conqueror;" by which last expression I suppose he 
 meant to insinuate, that he was strengthened and estab- 
 lished, rather than overborne by this opposition. Yet it 
 was not immediately that he gained such fortitude. He 
 has often told me, how much he felt, in those days, of 
 
JAMES GARDINER. . 2*23 
 
 the emphasis of those w-ell-chos,?n words of ihe Apostle, 
 in which he ranks the trial of cruel mockings, with 
 scourgings, and bonds and imprisonments. The continu- 
 ed revilings with which he was received, in almost all 
 companies where he had been most familiar before, did 
 often distress him bej'ond measure ; so that he has seve- 
 ral times declared, he would much rather have marched 
 up to a battery of the enemies' cannon, than have been 
 obliged, so continually as he was. to face such artillery 
 as this. But, like a brave soldier in the first action 
 wherein he is engaged, he continued resolute, though 
 shuddering at the terror of the assault ; and quickly over- 
 came those impressions, which it is not perhaps in nature 
 wholly to avoid : and therefore I find l.im, in the letter re- 
 ferred to above, which was written about half a year after 
 his conversion, " quite ashamed to think of the uneasi- 
 ness which these things once gave him." In a word, he 
 went on, as every resolute Christian by divine grace, 
 may do, till he turned ridicule and opposition into respect 
 and veneration. 
 
 But this sei^sible triumph over these difiiculties was not 
 till his Christian experience had been abundantly- advanc- 
 ed, by the blessing of God on the sermons he heard, par- 
 ticularly in the Swiss chapel, and on the many hours he 
 spent in devout retirement, pouring out his whole soul be- 
 fore God in prayer. He began, within about two months 
 after his first memorable change, to perceive some secret 
 dawnings of more cheerful hope, that vile as he saw him- 
 self to be, and I believe no words can express how vile 
 that was, he might nevertheless obtain mercy through a 
 Redeemer. And at length, if I remember right, about 
 the end of October, 1719, he found all the burden of his 
 mind taken off at once, by the powerful impression of 
 
224 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 that memorable Scripture upon his mind, Rom. 3 : 25, 26. 
 — Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation, through 
 faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the re- 
 mission of sins, — that he might be just, and the justifier 
 of him that believeth in Jesus." He had used to imagine, 
 that the justice of God required the damnation of so 
 enormous a sinner as he saw himself to be: but now he 
 was made deeply sensible that the divine justice might 
 be not only vindicated, but glorified, in saving him by the 
 blood of Jesus, even that blood which cleanseth us from 
 all sin. Then did he see and feel the riches of redeeming 
 love and grace, in such a manner as not only engaged 
 him, with the utmost pleasure and confidence to venture 
 his soul upon it, but even swallowed up, as it were, his 
 whole heart in the returns of love, which, from that bles- 
 sed time, became the genuine principle of his obedience^ 
 and animated him with an enlarged heart, to run the 
 way of God's commandments. Thus God was pleased, 
 as he himself used to speak, in an hour to turn his captiv- 
 ity. 411 the terrors of his former state were changed into 
 unutterable joy, which kept him almost continually wak- 
 ing for three nights together, and yet refreshed him as the 
 noblest of cordials. His expressions, though naturally 
 very strong, always seemed to be swallowed up, when he 
 would describe the series of thought through which 
 he now passed, under the rapturous experience of that 
 joy unspeakable and full of glory, which then seemed to 
 overflow his very soul ; as indeed there was nothing he 
 seemed to speak of with greater relish. And though the 
 first ecstasies of it afterwards subsided into a more calm 
 and composed delight, yet were the impressions so deep, 
 and so permanent, that he assured me on the word of a 
 Christian and a friend, wonderful as it might seem, that 
 
JAMias GAllDlNETl. ^25 
 
 for about seven years after this he enjoyed almost a heav. 
 en upon earth. His soul was so continually filled with a 
 sense of the love of God in Christ, that it knew little in- 
 terruption, but when necessary converse and the duties of 
 his station called off his thoughts for a little time ; and 
 when they did so, as soon as he was alone, the torrent re- 
 turned into its natural channel again ; so that from the 
 minute of his waking in the morning, his heart was ris- 
 ing to God, and triumphing in him : and these thoughts 
 attended him through all the scenes of life, till he lay do^^ n 
 on his bed again, and a short parenthesis of sleep, for it was 
 but a very short one that he allowed himtelf, invigorated 
 his animal powers, for renewing them with greater in- 
 tenseness and sensibility. Many other interesting partic- 
 ulars might be added, but we have not room to enlarge. 
 
 The July before Col. Gardiner's death, he took a jour- 
 ney to Scarborough for the recovery of his health, which 
 his arduous and unremitted labors had greatly enfeebled: 
 though, when his friends expostulated with him, that he 
 gave his body too little rest, he used to answer, " It will 
 rest long enough in the grave." Gluickly after his arri- 
 val at this place, the flame of civil war burst out anew, 
 and his regiment was ordered to Stii'ling. It was in the 
 castle there that his lady and eldest daughter enjoyed the 
 last happy hours of his companj'-. When he saw his 
 lady affected even to tears, instead of comforting her, as 
 usual, by pleading that rem.arkable hand of Providence, 
 which had hitherto preserved him, he only replied, in his 
 sententious manner, " We have an eternity to spend to- 
 gether." 
 
 On Frida}^ Sept. 20, the day before the battle which 
 transmitted him to his immortal crown, when the whole 
 army was drawn up, the Colonel rode through all the 
 *20 
 
226 JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 ranks of his own regiment, addressing them in the most 
 respectful and animating manner, both as soldiers and as 
 Christians, to engage them to exert themselves courage- 
 ously, in the service of their country. He continued all 
 night under arms. About three in the morning, he called 
 his four domestic servants to him, and dismissed three of 
 them with the most solemn charges relative to their duty 
 and the care of their souls. The remainder of the time, 
 it is supposed he spent in his private devotions, as was his 
 usual practice. 
 
 The army was alarmed at break of day, by the noise 
 of the enemy's approach, and the attack was made before 
 sunrise. As soon as the enemy came within gunshot, 
 they made a furious fire. The Colonel, at the beginning 
 of the onset, received a wound by a bullet in his left 
 breast. Supposing it to be only a wound in the flesh, he 
 fought on, though he presently after received a shot in 
 his right thigh. Fie was now supported by his officers, 
 while he continued to animate his soldiers by his pres- 
 ence and address. Soon after, he received so deep a 
 wound in his right arm, that his sword dropped frcm his 
 hand, and he was dragged from his horse. When the 
 hurry of the action was over, he was found dreadfully 
 wounded, yet brealhing, and not wholly insensible, though 
 incapable of speech. In this condition he was taken to 
 the minister's house, and laid in a bed, v/here he contin- 
 ued breathing, and frequently groaning, till about eleven 
 in the forenoon, when he took his final leave of pain and 
 sorrow, and, undoubtedly, rose to those distinguished glo- 
 ries, which are reserved for those who have been so emi- 
 nently and remarkably faithful unto death. 
 
CHAPTER Vlil. 
 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 THE MINISTER MADE A CHRISTIAN. 
 
 William Grimshaw was born at Brindle, in Lanca- 
 shire, on the 3d of September, 1708. He received his 
 early education at grammar schools in that County. In 
 this period of his hfe, he was not without serious reflec- 
 tions on the interests of bis own soul, and the realities of 
 an eternal existence. These thoughts were frequent, yet 
 transient. During his connection with the university at 
 Cambridge, where he was admitted in his eighteenth 
 year, they were, to all appearance totally effaced. He 
 went thither professedly with the view of obtaining a 
 preparation for the gospel ministry. What proficiency 
 he made in learning is not certainly known. Aided, how- 
 ever, by the influence of unholy associates, he soon made 
 an alarming proficiency in wickedness. 
 
 In the 3^ear 1731, he was furnished with his college 
 testimonial, which was then deemed sufficient for admis- 
 sion to holy orders ; he was oidained a deacon, and en- 
 tered upon the duties of the sacred office. Little did he 
 reaUze the tremendous responsibilities he thus incurred. 
 He did his duty, as the phrase is, in the church, once on 
 
^28 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 the Lord's da}^ : that is, he read prayers and a sermon. 
 Whether his flock were satisfied or not, he httle knew nor 
 cared. His own conscience was satisfied. He was 
 a gentle casuist, a cornphant companion, a man of the 
 world. 
 
 Thus he went on, unconcerned for his own salvation, 
 or that of the people committed to his care, for three or 
 four years. The progress from bad to worse, is no less 
 natural, and not much less common, than the motion of 
 a bowl running down a steep hill. It is generally known 
 and acknowledged, that habits gather strength from time 
 and exercise. When therefore an unexpected and perma- 
 nent change takes place in a man's views and conduct, 
 so that he who was thoughtless and vicious yesterday, 
 becomes serious and prayerful to-day, all outward circum- 
 stances remaining the same, and if the influence of this 
 change extends to every faculty and continues through 
 life; there is an effect produced, for which only the Scrip- 
 tures can assign an adequate cause. There we find it 
 ascribed to the agency of the Holy Spirit of God. It is 
 his office to convince of sin. He, who in the beginning 
 said, " Let there be light, and there was light," shines 
 into the heart which till then was dark. By this light, a 
 discovery is made of the majesty, holiness and goodness 
 of the great God, which before was unthoiight of, and 
 unperceived. For our sense of the evil of sin will al- 
 ways be proportionate to the views we have of Him 
 against whom it is committed. When we are duly ap- 
 prised of our absolute dependence upon him, and of our 
 obligations to him as our Creator, Benefactor, and Law- 
 giver, sin will appear exceedingly sinful, and will bring a 
 burden upon the conscience, which can only be removed 
 by faith in the Redeemer. 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 229 
 
 About the year 1734, and in the twenty-sixth year of 
 his age, Mr. Grimshaw was thus powerfully awakened 
 and alarmed, and he began to be concerned in good 
 earnest for the salvation of his soul. He prayed much 
 and waited long, before he experienced that peace of 
 mind which is the effect of a lively faith in the Redeemer. 
 Bnt there v.-as an immediate and great change in his 
 outward deportment. He was no longer a trifler. He 
 had now neither time nor taste for amusements and di- 
 versions. He attended diligently to the duties of his 
 charge, warned his parishioners of the wrath to come, 
 pressed upon them the necessity of a religious course of life, 
 and carefully catechized their children ; knowing, and 
 feeling in himself, the terrors of the Lord, he endeavored 
 to persuade others of their danger. But it was some 
 time before his own experience warranted him to invite 
 the weary and heavy laden to apply to Jesus, that they 
 might find rest to their souls. 
 
 Thus he was, in many respects, a changed man. He 
 labored, he fasted, he prayed; he aimed at a great strict- 
 ness and regularity, in his conduct. But though he did and 
 suffered many things, like the woman mentioned by the 
 Evangelists, Luke 8: 43, he found himself not better but 
 worse. His temptations, fears, and difficulties increased. 
 He was dismayed by new and various discoveries of the 
 evils of his heart, and pestered with a torrent of vain, 
 wicked, and blasphemous thoughts, so that he was almost 
 driven to despair. 
 
 All the Lord's people are not called to navigate in these 
 deep waters of soul distress; but many are, and it is 
 frequently the loi of those whom he designs to honor 
 with eminent usefulness in the ministry of his gospel; as 
 in a great building, the foundation is laid deep, in pro- 
 
230 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 portion to the height and weight of the 'intended super- 
 structure. It is in this school of temptation and exercise, 
 that they acquire the tongue of the learned, and an abili- 
 ty to speak a word in season to them that are weary. 
 By what they have themselves passed through, they are 
 taught to sympathize with their fellow-sinners, under 
 similar trials, and likewise how to give them advice suita- 
 ble to their cases. And the remembrance of their past 
 conflicts with a depraved nature, and the powers of dark- 
 ness, is sanctified to keep them humble, watchful, and de- 
 pendent in their future course. 
 
 His troubles were aggravated by not having any kind 
 friend to whom he could disclose them ; at least he had 
 no liberty in his mind to speak of them. He thought the 
 language of his complaints would not be understood, and 
 that he should be deemed melancholy or mad. He did 
 not then know that his case was far from singular, but 
 rather took it for granted that there was no one affected 
 like himself. It was not till some years afterward, that 
 he had any acquaintance with the people stigmatized by 
 the name of Methodists.* In the midst of all his dis- 
 couragements, he persevered in prayer, and in the study 
 of the Scriptures; and in due time, when he had learned 
 by painful experience the depravity of his nature, his 
 utter unworthiness and insufficiency, his prayers were 
 answered. His progress for a tim.e was gi'adual, like the 
 light, which, from a faint and scarcely discernible dawn, 
 shineth more and more unto the perfect day. Then he 
 gladly renounced all dependence upon himself either for 
 righteousness or strength. He believed and was made 
 whole. The voice of that blood which speaketh better 
 
 * The name by which Evangelical Christians were at that time 
 known in England. 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 231 
 
 things than the blood of Abel, proclaimed peace in his 
 heart. As the season of his consolation approached, his 
 preaching became more savory, experimental, and suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 In the ^''ear 1742, he was removed to the perpetual 
 curacy of Haworth, near Bradford in Yorkshire, to preach 
 to a people, who, when he first went among them, were 
 very ignorant, brutish, and wicked. But very soon, by 
 the blessing of God upon his ministry, this wilderness 
 assumed the appearance of a fruitful field, and the desert 
 rejoiced and blossomed like the rose. 
 
 It was a frequent practice with Mr. Grimshaw, from 
 the time when the great change took place in his views 
 and conduct to make and repeat engagements or coven- 
 ants, by which, in dependence upon the strength of the 
 Lord, he devoted himself, with the greatest seriousness and 
 solemnity, to his service and disposal. They were written 
 and subscribed by his own hand. 
 
 Many judicious persons have differed in their senti- 
 ments with respect to the propriety or utility of such 
 written engagements. They are usually entered into, if 
 at all, in an early stage of profession, when, though the 
 heart is warm, there has been little actual experience of 
 its deceitfulness. Frequently, the young convert, (like 
 the Israelites. when they saw the Egyptians dead upon 
 the shore of the Red Sea) fondly supposes that his 
 warfare is at an end, when it is scarcely begun. 
 They believed in the Lord, and sang his praises; little 
 apprehending what a wilderness was before them. Thus 
 in the day when the Lord turns our mourning into joy, 
 and speaks peace by the blood of his cross, to the con- 
 science burdened with guilt and fear, resolutions are 
 formed, which, though honest and sincere, prove, like 
 
232 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 Peter's promise to our Lord, too weak to withstand the 
 force of subsequent unforeseen temptations. Such views, 
 made in too much dependence upon our own strength, 
 not only occasion a further discovery of our weakness, 
 but frequently give the enemy advantage to terrify and 
 distress the mind . Therefore some persons, of more mature 
 experience, discountenance the practice as legal and im- 
 proper. But as a scaffold, though no part of an edifice, and 
 designed to be taken down when the building is finished, 
 is yet useful for a time in carrying on the work ; so many 
 young converts have been helped by expedients, which, 
 when their judgments are more ripened, and their faith 
 more confirmed, are no longer necessar^^ Every true 
 believer of course, ought to devote himself to the service 
 of the Redeemer, yea, he must and will, for he is con- 
 strained by love. He will do it not once only, but daily. 
 And many who have done it in writing, can look back 
 upon the transaction with thankfulness to the end of life, 
 recollecting it as a season of peculiar solemnity and im- 
 pression, accompanied with emotions of heart, neither 
 to be forgotten nor recalled. And the Lord, who does 
 not despise the day of small things, nor break the bruised 
 reed, nor quench the smoking flax, accepts and ratifies 
 the desire ; and mercifully pardons the mistakes which 
 they discover, as they attain to more knowledge of him 
 and of themselves. And they are encouraged, if not 
 warranted, to make their surrender in this manner, by the 
 words of the prophet Isaiah ; " One shall say, I am the 
 Lord's, and another shall call himself by the name of Ja- 
 cob, and another shall subscribe with his hand to the 
 Lord, and surname himself by the name of Israel." 
 
 But Mr. Grimshaw was not a novice when he wrote 
 the followino; dedication of himself to the Lord's service. 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 233 
 
 He mentions one which was dated in the year 1738, 
 which was probably the first; another in the year 1744. 
 Daring the interval of fourteen years between the first 
 and the last, he had sufficient time to consider, and recon- 
 sider his views and motives. He had experienced the 
 consequences of his engagement, the duties it required, 
 and the difficulties with which it was attended. It will 
 appear by this paper, written when he was fully engaged 
 in his unusual course of labors, and had sufficient proof 
 of the opposition and trials to which he was on all sides 
 exposed, for his indefatigable zeal, that he was neither 
 wearied nor intimidated. I shall transcribe the whole 
 from the copy now before me ; for though it is of 
 some length, I think it would be injured by abridg- 
 ment, 
 
 "Eternal and unchangeable Jehovah! Thou great 
 Creator of heaven and earth, and adorable Lord of angels 
 and of men ! I desire, with the deepest humiliation and 
 abasement of soul to fall down at this time, in thine awful 
 presence, and earnestly pray that thou wilt penetrate my 
 heart with a suitable sense of thine unutterable and in- 
 conceivcible glories! Trembling may justly take hold 
 upon me, when I, a sinful worm, presume to lift up my 
 head to thee — presunrie to appear in thy majestic presence 
 on such an occasion as this ! What is my nature or 
 descent, my character or desert, that I should mention or 
 desire to be one party, in a covenant, where thou, the 
 King of kings, art the other? I blush even to mention 
 it before thee. But, O Lord, great as is thy majesty, so 
 also is thy mercy. If thou hold converse with any of thy 
 creatures, thy superlatively exalted nature must stoop 
 infinitely low. I know that through Jesus, the Son of 
 thy love, thou condescendest to visit sinful mortals, and 
 21 
 
234 WILLIAM GRIMSIIAW. 
 
 to allow their approach to thee, and their covenant inter- 
 course with thee. Nay, I know the scheme and plan is 
 entirely thine own, and that thou hast graciously sent to 
 propose it unto us ; as none, untaught by thee, could have 
 been able to form it or inclined to embrace it, even when 
 actually proposed. 
 
 •' To thee, therefore, do I now come, invited by thy 
 Son, and trusting in his righteousness and grace. Laying 
 myself at thy feet with shame and confusion of face, and 
 smiting upon my breast, saying, with the humble publi- 
 can, God be merciful to me a sinner! I acknowledge, 
 
 Loid, that 1 have been a great transgressor. My sins 
 have reached unto heaven, and mine iniquities have been 
 lifted up to the skies. My base corruptions and lusts 
 have numberless ways wrought to bring forth fruit unto 
 death. And if thou wert extreme to mark what I have 
 done amiss, I could never abide in it. But thou hast 
 graciously called me to return unto thee, though I am a 
 prodigal son, and a backsliding child. Behold, therefore, 
 
 1 solemnly come before thee, O my Lord ! I come con- 
 vinced of my sin and folly. Thou knowest, O Lord, I 
 solemnl}'- covenanted with thee, in the year 1738 ; and 
 before that wonderful manifestation of thyself unto me, 
 at church, and in the clerk's house, between the hours of 
 ten and two o'clock on Sunday, September 2, 1744, 1 had 
 again solemnly devoted myself to thee on August 8, 1744. 
 And now once more and forever, I most solemnly give 
 up, devote, and resign all I am, spirit, soul, and body, to 
 thee, and to thy pleasure and command, in Christ Jesus, 
 my Savior, this 4th day of December, 1752. Sensible, 
 O Lord, of my vileness and unworthiness, but yet that I 
 am thy pardoned, justified, and regenerated child, in the 
 Spirit and blood of my dear and precious Savior Jesus 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 235 
 
 Christ, by clear experience. Glory bo to thee ! O my 
 triune God ! Permit' me to repeat, and renew my cove- 
 nant with thee. I desire and resolve to be wholly and 
 forever thine, in thy Spirit. Blessed God ! I most sol- 
 emnly surrender myself unto thee. Hear, O heaven, and 
 give ear, O earth ! I avouch this day, the Lord to be 
 my God, Father, Savior, Portion, forever ! 1 am one of 
 his. covenant children, fofever ! From this day, I sol- 
 emnly renounce all former lords, world, flesh, and devil, 
 in thy name. No more, directlj^ or indirectly, will I obey 
 them, I renounced them many years ago, and I renounce 
 them forever. This day I give myself up to thee, a liv- 
 ing sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto thee ; and which 
 I know is my reasonable service ; to thee 1 consecrate all 
 my worldly possessions; in thy service I desire aad pur- 
 pose to spend all my time ; desiring thee to teach me to 
 spend every moment of it to thy glory, and the setting 
 forth of thy praise, in every station and relation of life, I 
 am now or may be hereafter in. And I earnestly pray, 
 that whatever influence thou mayest in any wise give 
 me over others, thou would st give me strength and cour- 
 age to exert it to the utmost, to thy glory, resolving not 
 only myself to do it, but that all others, so far as I can 
 rationally and properly influence them, shall serve the 
 Lord. In that course would I, O Lord, persevere to my 
 last breath ; steadfastly praying, that every day of my 
 life may supply the defects and correct the irregularities 
 of the former, and that by divine grace I may be enabled, 
 not only in that happy way to hold on, but to grow daily 
 more active in it. Nor do I only consecrate all I have 
 to thy service, but I also most humbly resign and submit 
 to thy holy and sovereign will, all that I have. I leave, 
 O Lord, to thy management and direction, all 1 possess, 
 
236 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 and all I wish, and set every enjoyment and interest be- 
 fore thee, to be disposed of as thou pleasest. Continue or 
 remove what thou hast given me, bestow or refuse what 
 I imagine I want, as thou seest good ; and though I dare 
 not say, I will never repine, yet I hope I may say, I will 
 labor not only to submit, but to acquiesce; not only to 
 bear thy heaviest afflictions on me, but to consent to them, 
 and praise thee for them ; contentedly resolving in alt thy 
 appointments, my will into thine; esteeming myself as 
 nothing, and thee, O God, as the great Eternal all, whose 
 word should determine, and whose power should order all 
 things in the world. 
 
 •' Use me, O Lord, I beseech thee, as the instrument of 
 thy glory ; and honor me so far, as either by doing or 
 suffering thy appointments, I may bring praise to thy 
 name, and benefit to the world in which Hive. And may 
 it please thee from this daj^ forward to number me among 
 thy peculiar people, that I may no more be a stranger and 
 foreigner, but a fellow-citizen with the saints, and of the 
 household of God. Receive, O heavenly Father, being 
 already washed in thy blood, and clothed with thy righte- 
 ousness, me, thy child, and sanctify me throughout, by 
 the power of thy Holy Spirit. Destroy, I beseech thee, 
 more, the power of sin in my heart ; transform me more 
 into thine image; and fashion me into the resemblance of 
 Jesus, whom I would henceforth ever acknowledge as my 
 Teacher and Sacrifice, my Intercessor, and my Lord. 
 Communicate unto me, I beseech thee, all needful influ- 
 ences of thy purifying, cheering, comforting Spirit ; and 
 lift lip that light of thy countenance upon me, w^hich 
 will put the sublimest joy and gladness into my heart. 
 
 " Dispose my affairs, O God, in a manner which may 
 be wholly subservient to thy glory, and my own true 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHaW. 2o7 
 
 happiness ; and when I have done, borne, and endured 
 thy will upon earth, call me hence at what time, and in 
 what manner thou pleasest. Only grant, that in my dy- 
 ing moments, and the near approach of eternity, I may 
 remember these my engagements to thee, and may employ 
 my latest breath in thy service. A nd do thou, when thou 
 seest me in the agonies of death, remember this covenant 
 too, though I should be incapable of recollecting it. Lock 
 down upon me, O Lord, thy languishing dying child ; 
 place thine everlasting arms underneath m}^ head ; put 
 strength and confidence in my departing spirit, and receive 
 it to the embraces of thine everlasting love ! Welcome 
 it to the abodes of those who sleep in Jesus, who are with 
 him above, to wait with them that glorious day, when 
 the last of thy promises to thy people shall be fulfilled in 
 their triumphant resurrection, and that abundant entrance 
 which shall be administered unto them, into that ever- 
 lasting kingdom of which thou hast assured them by thy 
 covenant; in the hope of w4iich I now lay hold of it, 
 desiring to live and die with my hand upon that hope. 
 
 "And when I am thus numbered with the dead, and 
 all the interests of mortality are over with me, forever ; if 
 this. solemn memorial should fall into the hands of any 
 surviving friends or relatives, may it be the means of 
 making serious impressions upon their mind ; and may 
 they read it, not only as my language, but as their own; 
 and learn to fear the Lord my God, and with me, to put 
 their trust under the shadow of his wings for time, and 
 for eternit}'. And may they also learn to adore wiih me, 
 that grace which inclines our hearts to enter into the 
 covenant, and condescend to admit us into it, when so 
 inclined ; ascribing with me, and with all the nations of 
 the redeemed, to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, that 
 *21 
 
238 WILLIAM grimshaW. 
 
 glory, honor, and praise, which is so justly due to each 
 divine Person, for the part he bears in this ihustrious work. 
 Amen. I solemnly subscribe this dedication of myself to 
 the forever blessed triune God, in the presence of angels^ 
 and all invisible spectators, this fourth day of December, 
 
 1752. 
 
 William Grimshaw, 
 
 Minister of HaicorthP 
 " I renewed this solemn dedication in a most awful 
 manner, 5th of June, 1760. Oh ! that day ! May I care- 
 fully remember and keep it ! 
 
 " I proposed to renew this dedication with a quarterly 
 fast, the first Friday in January, April, July, and October, 
 during life." 
 
 I cannot pass unnoticed the extraordinary circumstan- 
 ces to which he himself refers in the above paper, as 
 taking place in the church of Haworth and in his clerk's 
 house, on Sunday, the 2nd of September, 1744. Dr. 
 Doddridge is supposed to allude to the same fact, when, 
 giving an account of the wonderful impression made upon 
 the mind of Colonel Gardiner, which issued in his happy 
 conversion, he speaks of a respectable clergyman of the 
 Established Church, who had experienced something of 
 a similar kind. 1 have had several long and interesting 
 conversations with Mr. Grimshaw, but never heard him 
 mention it; and I do not find that such of his intimate 
 friends as are yet living, were acquainted with many of 
 the particulars related in a letter published in the Evan- 
 gelical Magazine, for November, 1794. But as the wri- 
 ter of that letter, the late Mr. Joseph Williams of Kidder- 
 minster, was a man of unquestionable veracity, so far as 
 he had the account which he gives from Mr. Grimshaw's 
 own mouth, I am not disposed to controvert it. 
 
WlLtlAM 'gRIMSHAW. 2S9 
 
 When the Apostle Paul told Agrippa that the Lord 
 Jesus appeared to him on his way to Damascus, Festus, 
 who seems to have had a candid opinion of his integrity, 
 could only account for his relating so strange a story, by 
 supposing he was mad. But the relation was confirmed 
 by the effects. It was known to many who then heard 
 him, that when he left Jerusalem, he was filled with rage 
 and enmity against the disciples, and that the intent of 
 his journey was to bring as many of them as he could in 
 bonds to the high priest and council, from whom he had 
 received commission and authority for that purpose. It 
 was equally notorious that he had entered Damascus 
 with very different views; that he immediately associated 
 with the people whom he had hated and despised, and 
 from that time was a zealous preacher of the faith he 
 had formerly labored to destroy. Though his old friends 
 had become his bitter enemies, though stripes, bonds, and 
 imprisonments awaited him in every place, and the Jews 
 were continually thirsting for his blood, he persevered in 
 his labors, undism.ayed by hardships or difficulties, to the 
 end of his life. A change of conduct so sudden, and so 
 permanent, must have a proportionate cause. The Apos- 
 tle assigned the true cause, and they who refuse to be- 
 lieve him will never be able to assign another that can 
 account, even to their own satisfaction, for his subsequent 
 conduct. 
 
 Thus, if Colonel Gardiner, after declaring, that at a 
 moment when he expected nothing iess, he thought he 
 saw a visible representation of our Lord and Savior, as 
 hanging upon the cross, had continued in the same course 
 of dissipation, profligacy, and folly, as before, we might 
 with reason, have supposed it a delusion, and have as- 
 cribed it to a distempered imagination. But he likewise 
 
^40 , WILLIAM GRIMSMAW. 
 
 became an altered, or rather a new man, from that hour. 
 Evil propensities, to which he had been before so habitu- 
 ated and enslaved, that he had thought it impossible to 
 overcome them, lost their power from that time. The 
 love of Christ constrained him; he was no longer a liber- 
 tine. He then found very different employment for his 
 time, talents, and influence. I need not enlarge; his 
 character as a Christian and an officer, is well known. 
 He who, while he was envied by his companions for his 
 adroitness and success in modish wickedness, had often 
 wished himself a dog, found true happiness where it can 
 alone be found, in the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and 
 him crucified. He adorned the gospel which he profess- 
 ed, living and dying ; and by his wise, consistent, hum- 
 ble and examplary conduct, extorted the respect of many 
 who affected to despise it. 
 
 The best account I have met with of the incident to 
 which Mr. Grirashaw refers on Sept. 2, 1744, and which 
 I think may be credited, was given by a person who then 
 lived with him as a servant, to the following purport : — 
 That she was called up that morning at five o'clock, but 
 found her master was risen before her, and was retired 
 into a private room for prayer. After remaining there 
 some time, he went to a house in Haworth, where he was 
 engaged awhile in religious exercises with some of his 
 people ; he then returned home, and retired for prayer 
 again, and from thence to church. She believes he had 
 not eaten anything that morning. While reading the 
 second lesson h^ fell down ; he was soon helped up, and 
 led out of the church. He continued to talk to the peo- 
 ple as he went, and desired them not to disperse, for he 
 hoped he should return to them soon, and he had some- 
 thing extraordinary to say to them. They led him to 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 241 
 
 the clerk's house, where he lay seemingly insensible. 
 She, and others, were employed in rubbing his limbs 
 which were exceedingly cold, with warm clothes. After 
 some time he came to himself, and seemed to be in great 
 rapture. The first words he spoke were, " I have had a 
 glorious vision from the third heaven." But she does not 
 remember that he made any mention of what he had 
 seen. In the afternoon he performed service in the chui*cb, 
 which began at two o'clock, and preached and spoke so 
 long to the people, that it was seven in the evening be- 
 fore he returned home. So far the testimony of his ser- 
 vant. 
 
 We have the canon of Scripture complete. The whole 
 is given by inspiration of God, and is of itself, when right- 
 ly understood, and duly regarded, sufficient to make both 
 minister and people, thoroughly furnished for every good 
 work. We have now neither need nor warrant to expect 
 visions, voices, or trances, either for our instrucUon or for 
 our consolation. If a person were to tell me that his re- 
 ligious experience was of this extraordinary nature, 1 
 should at first be disposed to distrust either his judgment 
 or his veracity. But if he spoke of it as what had hap- 
 pened to him twenty years ago, and I knew that during 
 all those years he had maintained an honorable, circum- 
 spect, and useful profession, I should think I could not 
 refuse to believe him. Thus I judge in Mr. Grimshaw's 
 case. The occurrence is recorded in a paper drawn up, 
 in the most solemn manner, as in the immediate presence 
 of the Almighty, in a paper which, perhaps, no person 
 ever saw during his life-time. Had he been fond of men- 
 tioning it, I should probably have heard it from himself, 
 for I was frequently with him during the few years of our 
 
242 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 acquaintance. For some time before this event, and for 
 many years after, his truth and integrity were unques- 
 tionable. 
 
 The powers of the human mind, when cuhivated by 
 education, and habituated to reflection, are certainly ca- 
 pable of great exertions, but its researches are in many re- 
 spects limited within narrow and mortifying boundaries. 
 Man can calculate to a minute, an eclipse that shall 
 happen five hundred years hence ; but he knows not what 
 changes may take place the next day or hour in his most 
 interesting concerns. He attempts to measure the earth, 
 to weigh the subtle air, and almost to number and mar- 
 shal the stars. But while he prides himself in his excur- 
 sions abroad, he is a stranger at home. He is conscious 
 of an active, sentient principle within, which pervades and 
 governs the wonderful mechanism of his earthly taberna- 
 cle; but how body and spirit are united, and in what 
 manner they act upon each other, is no less inexplicable 
 to the philosopher than to the clown. Our perceptions 
 are obtained through the medium of our bodily organs, 
 but we cannot account for the actual or possible effect of 
 a slight alteration in the animal system, nor how a blow 
 on the head, or the ravages of a fever, can suddenly trans- 
 form a wise man into an idiot. We use the words mem- 
 ory and imagination as if we understood them ; but how 
 we can retain, combine and diversify, the numberless va- 
 rious ideas which we can receive from our senses, is a se- 
 cret, a mystery, which lies far beyond the grasp of hu- 
 man comprehension. And yet, vain man, who would be 
 deemed wise, though he is ignorant as the wild ass's colt, 
 presumes to determine what is, or is not credible, by the 
 standard of his own defective and prejudiced judgment ! 
 
 Infidels and sceptics think themselves at liberty to dis^ 
 
WILLIAM GKIMSHAW. 243 
 
 pute or deny the reality of whatever does not fall under 
 the cognizance of their senses. They disdain to listen to 
 argiirnents taken from the Scriptures of truth ; but they 
 judge no less inconsistently with the principles of sound 
 philosophy, to which they vainly pretend. With equal rea- 
 son, a man born blind might deny the possibility of a 
 rainbow. We cannot describe it to him, and he might 
 say, he will not believe there is such a thing, because he 
 can neither hear it, nor feel it. The rainbow can only 
 be perceived by sight, and he is blind. If we argue from 
 analog^/, it is at least highly probable that there may be 
 innumerable objects as near to us, as any with which we 
 are acquainted, but of which we can form no conception, 
 for want of suitable faculties. We know not but that he 
 who gave us the five inlets of perception, which we call 
 the senses, might, if he so pleased, have given us fifty, all 
 as distinct from each other, and as different in their mode 
 of operation, as our sight is from our hearing. 
 
 How various are the gradations of life with which we 
 are acquainted, from an oyster or an em.met,up to a man ! 
 Will reason warrant us to conclude that this gradation 
 stops with us? Rather, considering the im.mensity of the 
 universe, is it not reasonable almost to take it for granted, 
 without expr(^ss information, that there may be as many 
 ranks of creatures superior to us, as we know there are 
 below us ? They who believe the Scriptures cannot doubt 
 but there are innumerable intellectual beings, whose 
 agency, though seldom or faintly perceived by us, is con- 
 versant with our concerns. We read of angels, princi- 
 palities, and powers, in the unseen world. We are assured 
 that the holy angels, the "worshipping spirits before the 
 throne of God, are sent forth to minister to the heirs of 
 salvation. And we know, not from Scripture only, but 
 
244 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 from experience, that there are evil and malignant spirits 
 who, so far as they are permitted, (for they are conquered 
 enemies, and cannot ^o beyond their chain,) are active 
 and industrious to deceive or to disturb the mind of mor- 
 tals. Infidels may and do, boldly deny these things, 
 but we are certain they cannot disprove them. However, 
 I have little hope of repressing the daring infidel, and 
 Sadducean spirit, which marks the character of the pres- 
 ent day, nor do I write professedly for such. We who 
 believe the Scriptures, are satisfied upon this head, nor 
 would others be persuaded, though one should rise from 
 the dead. 
 
 When Stephen was stoned by his persecutors, he said, 
 ' Behold, I see the heavens opened, and Jesus standing at 
 the right hand of God.' He could scarcely mean by this 
 expression, an opening in the visible sky, through which 
 he saw the Savior, beholding him as from a distance. 
 The opening was doubtless in his own mind. So the 
 apostle Paul informs us he was taken up into the third 
 heavens, and that during his rapture, he could not tell 
 whether he was in the body or out of it; that is, as I 
 conceive, his bodily powers were so overwhelmed and 
 locked up by the heavenly vision, that he could take no 
 notice of the external objects around him. He expresses 
 his situation upon this or some similar occasion, by say- 
 ing, ' While I was in the temple praying, I was in a 
 trance.' 
 
 A trance signifies a temporary suspension of the animal 
 faculties ; we may call it a waking dream. Perhaps 
 there is a faculty in the human constitution adapted to 
 an intercourse with the intellectual world, as our natural 
 senses are to the objects which at present surround us, but 
 which faculty is dormant while we are in health and 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 245 
 
 distinctly awake, unless when God is pleased, in some 
 extraordinary cases, to call it into exercise. And then in- 
 visibles are seen, and uniUterables are heard. Thus in 
 answer to Elisha's prayer, the Lord opened the eyes of 
 his servant (the eyes of the mind:) and he instantly saw 
 that the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire. 
 They, or the things emblematically represented by them, 
 were there before, but till his eyes were in that manner 
 opened he could not perceive them. 
 
 Though instances of this kind are not to be expected, 
 nor should credit ever be lightly given to those who pro- 
 fess to have experienced them, yet something very anal- 
 agous is frequently observable in dying persons. In that 
 solemn period, when flesh and heart are failing, the poet's 
 observation is often verified : 
 
 •= The soul's dark cottage, tatter'd and decay'd, 
 Lets in new light through chinks that time has made.' 
 
 Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord ! We have 
 been eye-witnesses to the transports of many. ' And it 
 does not appear that either old age or great knowledge, or 
 long experience, afford any considerable advantage in a 
 dying hour; for when the heart is duly humbled for sin, 
 and the hope solidly fixed upon the Savior, persons of 
 weak capacities and smeill attainments, yea, novices and 
 children, are enabled to meet death with equal fortitude 
 and triumph. We must be in similar circumstances our- 
 selves before we can see as they see, or possess the ideas 
 which they endeavor to describe, cind which seem too 
 great for the language of morta-^^ to convey.' 
 
 Many likewise, who, whild in health, made a mock at 
 sin, and treated religion with contempt, have not been 
 able to conceal their ^'error and amazement, when com- 
 pelled to look deauH in the face. To them the opening 
 
 2: 
 
246 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 views of an eternal state have been dark and terrifying 
 to an extreme. • What was once slighted as a fable, is 
 now seen and felt as a reality. Such cases I am afraid 
 are frequent. But they are suppressed, ascribed to the 
 violence of the fever, and forgotten, as soon as possible. 
 Yet they sometimes transpire.' And frequently, one 
 harbinger of death is an anticipation of joy or woe, too 
 great for utterance. 
 
 Returning from this digression, Mr Newton proceeds 
 to delineate the character of Mr. Grimshaw, as a preacher, 
 a pastor and a Cliristian, atVreat length, and with a mas- 
 ter's hand. But we cannot follow him in this brief me- 
 moir. Suffice it to say, that though the people at Ha- 
 worth were for the most part extremely ignorant and stu- 
 pidly irreligious, when Mr. Grimshaw settled among them, 
 the terror and energy of his preaching soon engaged their 
 attention. He was pressed in spirit — he spoke with 
 earnestness and authority — and ' his labor was not in vain 
 in the Lord.' A power from on high applied to the heart 
 what he would only declare to the ear. The effects of his 
 plain and pungent ministry were soon visible. While 
 some marked and opposed, a growing number were soon 
 distinguished, not only by a change in their views and 
 sentiments, but in their tempers and conduct. Sin was 
 in many instances forsaken and discountenanced; the 
 drunkard became sober, the idle industrious ; profaneness 
 gave place to prajer, and riot to decorum. 
 
 If his preaching i^ad been confined to his own parish 
 church, he would not have labored in vain. It might be 
 said of many w^ho heard h-.m there, ' The people who sat 
 in darkness have seen a great V^ht.' They were turned 
 from the power of Satan unto God. But his zeal and 
 his desire to be useful to the souls of men, made him read- 
 
WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 247 
 
 ily accept invitations to visit and preach in other parishes. 
 His constitution was strong, his health firm, his spirits 
 good, and his zeal ardent. He was able to bear much 
 fatigue and hardship, and he did not spare himself. The 
 love of Christ constrained him. Without intermitting 
 his stated service at home, he went much abroad. In a 
 course of time, he established two circuits, which, with 
 some occasional visitations, he usually traversed every week 
 alternately. One of these he pleasantly called his idle 
 week, because he seldom preached more than twelve or 
 fourteen times. His sermons in his working or busy 
 week, often exceeded twenty-four, and sometimes thirty. 
 So great was the interest felt in his earnest and evangeli- 
 cal exhibitions of truth,' that numbers flocked to his 
 church from a great distance. — He had hearers who 
 came statedly ten or twelve miles, for years together ; 
 and were seldom prevented, either by severe weather, or 
 bad roads. 
 
 But we must hasten to the closing scene of his active 
 and useful life. In the spring of 1763, Haworth was 
 visited by a putrid fever of which many persons died. 
 Mr. Grimshaw had a strong presage upon his mind, that 
 some one of his own family would be added to the num- 
 ber, and he repeatedly exhorted them all to be ready, as 
 he knew not which of them it might be. As to himself, 
 it was not for a man of his mind and spirit, to dechne 
 the calls of duty and affection, from any apprehension of 
 danger. He caught the infection, and from the first of 
 the attack, expected and welcomed the approach of 
 death. He knew whom he believed, and felt his support 
 in the trying hour. 
 
 While death pointed his javeline to his heart, he beheld 
 the face of this king of terrors, as it were the face of an 
 
248 WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 
 
 angel. He said, " Never had I such a visit from God 
 since I knew him." To one of his friends who asked 
 him how he did, he answered, " As happy as I can be 
 on earth, and as sure of glory as if I was in it." He is 
 reported to have said to his house-keeper, O Mary, I have 
 suffered last night what the blessed martyrs did; my 
 flesh has been as it were roasting before a hot fire. But 
 I have nothing to do, but to step out of my bed into 
 heaven. I have my foot upon the threshold already." 
 And thus he entered into the joy of his Lord, aged fifty- 
 five. How can infidelity itself refrain from exclaiming,, 
 " Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last 
 end be like his ! " 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 TH03IAS BATEMAN, M. D.* 
 
 THE SCEPTICAL PHYSICIAN. 
 
 Dr. Bateman settled in London soon after his gradua- 
 tion at Edinburgh in the year 1801 ; and his professional 
 merits being very considerable, he was speedily elected 
 physician to two public institutions — a large Dispensary, 
 and the House of Recovery for Fever. He continued to 
 distinguish himself, as he had done in Edinburgh, by his 
 zeal and industry in the pursuit of science and literature ; 
 though he contrived to mix with his severer studies a large 
 portion of the dissipations of gay society, and carried with 
 him, into both these opposite pursuits, an energy of mind 
 and of feeling which rendered him more than ordinarily 
 susceptible of the enjoyments which either of them can 
 efford. He always retained a high "sense of honor," as 
 it is called, and was strictly careful to avoid, in all his 
 conduct, every thing that the world esteems discreditable. 
 
 He lived, however, to see and to "feel, what at that time 
 he had no conception of, how meagre a system of morali- 
 ty is that which the world is satisfied witli, compared 
 
 * Abridged from the Christian Observer- 
 
 *22 
 
250 THOMAS BATElffANrf 
 
 with the comprehensive morality of the gospel — that 
 Christian holiness, without which " no man shall see the 
 Lord." His habits of life thus concurring with the natu- 
 ral corruption of the human heart, and estranging him 
 more and more from God, he became confirmed in his 
 leaning to the wretched doctrine of materialism, which 
 he had been already tempted to adopt during the pursuit 
 of his anatomical and phj^siological studies at Edinburgh. 
 This lamentable tendency was strongly increased by the 
 society which he now fell into, of some men of considera- 
 ble talent, who had already espoused all the principles of 
 that unphilosophical, as well as unchristian system ; and 
 though never able fully to embrace those opinions him- 
 self, he was yet sufficiently influenced by them to become 
 sceptical respecting the truth of Divine Revelation, and 
 was, therefore, of course, a stranger to the hopes, as well 
 as negligent of the duties of Christianity. 
 
 In the summer of 1815, his health began to decline, 
 and in the following year a complaint of his eyes came 
 on, which threatened loss of sight, and precluded him 
 from all his accustomed sources of occupation and amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 Under these circumstances, the writer of this memoir 
 became his constant companion and attendant ; and for 
 four years had the misery of witnessing his total estrange- 
 ment from God and religion. His health continuing to 
 decline, he left London in July, 1819, with an intention 
 of trying the effect of a sulphurous water at Middletown, 
 in the county of Durham, on his debiliated constitution. 
 He was taken ill on the road, and with difficulty reached 
 a village, near Beverlj^ in Yorkshire ; where he was 
 obliged to remain during the following winter ; and find- 
 ing, at length, that his health required the sacrifice, he 
 finally determined not to attempt returning to London. 
 
THOMAS EATEMAN. 251 
 
 He had for some time been subject to attacks of the 
 most alarming nervous languor, during which he was 
 thought by all around him, as well as by himself, to be 
 dying, and these now returned upon him continually, es- 
 pecially after using the least bodily exertion. During 
 the winter he was considerably better; but on the return 
 of warm weather, early in the spring of 1820, he had a 
 severe attack of languor, after a short ride. 
 
 His dread of these attacks was so great, and they were 
 brought on so frequently, by the smallest fatigue, that he 
 gradually relinquished all exertion, as he even believed 
 that the exhaustion which would be produced by the 
 effort of walking across a room, might prove fatal. 
 
 It was on Sunday, the 9th of April, that he first spoke 
 to me on the subject of religion. He had passed the 
 whole of the day in a state of extraordinary suffering, 
 from languor, and a variety of nervous feelings, which 
 he always said it was impossible to describe, farther than 
 that they were inconceivably painful and distressing; 
 and he went to bed with a firm persuasion that he should 
 never again quit it; and, in fact, he did confine himself 
 to it for the following three weeks, from the mere appre- 
 hension of the consequences of exertion. Religion was a 
 subject which, for many reasons, had never been discussed 
 between us. Though the tenor of his life had made me 
 but too well acquainted with the state of his mind, he 
 had always avoided any declaration of his opinions, know^ 
 ing the pain it would give me to hear them. He was 
 habitually fond of argument, and skilled in it; and I 
 knew that I was quite incompetent to argue with him. 
 I considered, too, that the habit of disputing in favor of 
 any opinion, only serves, in general, to rivet it more firmly 
 in the mind : men commonly find their own arguments 
 
^52 THOMAS BATEMAN. 
 
 more convincing them those of their adversaries. And, 
 above all, I knew that this was a case in which mere ar- 
 gument must always be insufficient, — for it is with the 
 heart man beUeveth unto righteousness : and in most, if 
 not all, cases of scepticism, the will and the affectiors 
 need to be set right, even more than the understanding ; 
 and upon these arguments can have no influence.* 
 
 On the evening of the day I have mentioned. Dr. Bate- 
 man had been expressing to me his conviction that he 
 could not live much longer, and complaining of the dread- 
 ful nervous sensations that continually harassed him ; 
 and then he added, " But all these sufferings are a just 
 punisliment for my long scepticism, and neglect of God 
 and religion." This led to a conversation, in the course 
 of which he observed, that medical men were generally 
 sceptical : and that the mischief arose from what he con- 
 sidered a natural tendency of some of their studies to lead 
 to materialism. 
 
 I replied that the mischief appeared to me to originate 
 rather in their neglect to examine the evidences of the 
 truth of the Bible, as an actual revelation from God ; be- 
 cause, if a firm conviction of that were once established, 
 the authority of the Scripture must be paramount ; and 
 the tendency of all inferior studies, in opposition to their 
 declarations, could have no weight. He said be believed 
 I was right, and that he had, in fact, been intending to 
 examine fully into the subject, when the complant in his 
 eyes came on, and shut him out from reading. Our con- 
 versation ended in his permitting me to read to him the 
 first of Scott's " Essays on the most important Subjects in 
 
 * There is vast deal of true, practical wisdom in these remarks. 
 
 Compiler. 
 
THOMAS BATEMAN. 253 
 
 Religion," whicli treats of " The Divine Inspiration of 
 the Scriptures." 
 
 He listened with intense earnestness ; and when it was 
 concluded, exclaimed, " This is demonstration ! complete 
 demonstration !" He then asked me to read to him the 
 account given in the New Testament of the resurrection 
 of our Savior; which I did from all the four Evangelists. 
 T read, also, many other passages of Scripture, with some 
 of which he was extremely struck ; especially with that 
 declaration, that " The natural man receiveth not the 
 things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto 
 him : neither can he know them, because they are spirit- 
 ually discerned." For two or three days he showed in- 
 creasing interest in the subject of religion ; and 1 read to 
 him continually the Scriptures, and other books which 
 seemed to me best calculated to give him the information 
 he thirsted for. When I went into his room a few morn- 
 ings after, he said, " It is quite impossible to describe to 
 you the change which has taken place in my mind : I 
 feel as if a new world was opened to me, and all the in- 
 terests and pursuits of this have faded into nothing, in 
 comparison with it. They seem so mean, and paltiy, and 
 insignificant, that my blindness, in living so long im- 
 mersed in them, and devoted to them, is quite inconceiva- 
 ble and astonishing to myself." He often expressed 
 in the strongest terms, and with many tears, his deep re- 
 pentance, and his abhorrence of himself for his former 
 sinful life, and rebellion against God; but he seemed to 
 have, from the first, so clear a view of the all-sufficiency 
 of the Savior's atonement, and of the Christian scheme of 
 salvation, as freed him, at once, from that distrust of for- 
 giveness which is so apt to afflict persons at the first sight 
 of their sins, and of the purity and holiness of him " with 
 
254 THOMAS BATEMAN. 
 
 whom they have to do." The self-abasing views which 
 he entertained of himself, necessarily enhanced his sense 
 of the pardoning love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus, 
 thus graciously extended to him ; and which he felt so 
 strongly, that he was filled with the liveliest emotions of 
 gratitude and joy, and in this state continued for several 
 days. 
 
 He soon, however, experienced an afflicting reverse of 
 feeling. One evening I left him to visit a near relative, 
 at that time confined to her room in a precarious state of 
 health, and his mother, who had been in attendance upon 
 her, took my place at the bed-side of her son. Dr. Bate- 
 man told her that I had been reading to him various de- 
 tached portions of Scripture, and that he now wished to 
 hear the New Testamxcnt read regularly through from the 
 beginning. 
 
 She consequently, began to read, and had prooceeded 
 as far as the tenth chapter of St. Matthew, when he sud- 
 denly exclaimed, that he could not believe in the miracles 
 of the Savior, and that, thefefore, he must perish forever. 
 This suggestion of his spiritual enemy threw him into a 
 state of the most dreadful anguish, and I was immediately 
 sent for to his bed-side. 
 
 On my arrival, he had become a little more composed, 
 but was still in great agitation ; and was praying in 
 agony, to be saved, — not to be given up to this dreadful 
 state of unbelief. To comfort his mind, we said what we 
 could from Scripture, and from the experience of other 
 Christians ; and he was a little relieved by hearing some 
 passages from an Essay in the volume before mentioned, 
 " On the Warfare and Experience of Believers;" finding 
 that his was not, as he had supposed, a case of new oc- 
 currence ; but that the author of that work was already 
 
THOMAS BATEMAN. 255 
 
 acquainted with its syaiptcms, and augured favorably of 
 Ihera, as often accompanying the progress of rehgion in 
 the soul. Still the idea that his death was fast approach- 
 ing, and that there was no hope of his mind being con- 
 vinced before it arrived, quite overwhelmed him. Feeling 
 ourselves to be very inadequate guides and comforters in 
 these afflicting circumstances, we gladly adopted a sug- 
 gestion of a friend that we should request a neighboring 
 clergyman of piety and judgment to visit him. Dr. 
 Bateman himself grasped eagerly at the proposal, and I 
 wrote immediately to the clergyman in question ; but he 
 was from home, and was not expected to return for two 
 or three weeks. A few days after this unwelcome intel- 
 ligence, Dr. Bateman told me, he had no doubt this dis- 
 appointment was for his good; and that it was better for 
 him to be left to himself, as he did not think anything 
 could have convinced him so fully of the efficacy affrayer, 
 as the sensible relief which he experienced from it during 
 those conflicts of doubt and unbelief with which his mind 
 continued to be harassed. He added, that he now spent 
 whole nights in prayer. He felt perfectly assured, that 
 these doubts were the suggestions of the great adversary 
 of souls, and remarked, that they were vividly and mani- 
 festly dashed, as it were, into his mind, instead of arising 
 from his own reflections, or resulting from any train of 
 reasoning ; and the absurdity of them, in many instances, 
 was so obvious, that his judgment detected it at once, 
 though he still had not power to drive them from the 
 hold they took on his imagination, or to banish them, for 
 the time, from his thoughts. 
 
 These paroxysms of distress and conflict, which 
 sometimes lasted many hours, he continued subject to 
 for about a fortnight ; but they gradually became less 
 
256 THOMAS BATEMAN. 
 
 long and violent, and he experienced increasingly great 
 relief from prayer during their continuance ; till at length 
 thej^ subsided entirely, and left his mind satisfied on all 
 those points, which had before presented so many obstacles 
 to his belief. 
 
 About this time, he received an unexpected visit from a 
 medical friend, whose piety and truly Christian character 
 distinguished him still more than his eminent abilities and 
 professional skill. 
 
 This gentleman, with great difficulty, succeeded in per- 
 suading him he was by no means in that state of danger 
 and debility which he had apprehended, and that he had 
 power of taking exercise if he could but exert sufficient 
 resolution to attempt it. Experiment convinced him that 
 this opinion was correct ; he v/as prevailed on to leave his 
 bed, and in a very few days was able to be some hours in 
 the open air, and to take considerable exercise ; and it is 
 remarkable, that from this time he had no return of lan- 
 guor after fatigue, except in one instance. Thus was he 
 delivered, by the gracious providence of God, from those 
 overwhelming apprehensions of immediate death, which 
 had been so instrumental in bringing him to Christ, as 
 soon as they had effected that blessed purpose. 
 
 He now rarely spoke of the state of his mind and 
 feelings; for such was the extreme reserve of his char- 
 acter, that it could only be overcome by deep and power- 
 ful eaiotions ; and when no longer agitated by these, 
 he returned to his natural habits, and was silent on the 
 subject that most deeply interested him. Still it was 
 abundantly evident that it did interest him. The avidity 
 with which he listened to the word of God — his eager- 
 ness to attend public worship, (which for many years he 
 had entirely neglected,) and the heartfelt and devout 
 
THOMAS BATEMAN. 257 
 
 interest which he obviously took in the service — his en- 
 larged and active benevolence — the change which had 
 taken place in his tastes, inclinations, and pursuits — all 
 testified that he was indeed brought out of darkness into 
 marvellous hght ; " old things had passed away, and all 
 things had become new." 
 
 In the course of the summer, his health and strength 
 were considerably recruited ; but towards the close of it, a 
 little over-exertion in walking, brought on an accession of 
 fever, and a great aggravation of all the symptoms of 
 his disorder ; but still he continued able to take a little 
 exercise. While he remained in the country, he had 
 much leisure, which was devoted entirely to religious 
 reading ; for every other subject had now become insipid 
 and uninteresting to him ; and never did the pursuits of 
 science and literature afford him such vivid enjoyment 
 as he now received from these hallowed studies. In 
 November, he removed to Whitby for the winter; and his 
 health continued in much the same state till a short time 
 before Christmas, when a walk, rather longer than usual, 
 again produced increased fever and debility ; and from 
 that period, his strength and appetite visibly declined, 
 while his spirit was as visibly ripening for heaven. His 
 faith and patience were strengthened ; his hope was in- 
 creased, his charity enlarged ; yet he was naturally so 
 extremely reserved in the expression of his feelings, that 
 he rarely spoke of them till within the last month of his 
 life, when he rejoiced " with a joy unspeakable and full 
 of glory," which bore down all opposition; for he experi- 
 enced a happmess to which all the accumulated enjoy- 
 ments of his whole previous life could bear no proportion 
 or comparison, even that "peace of God," which '^pass- 
 eth all understanding," and which must be felt, or at 
 23 
 
258 THOMAS BATEMAN, 
 
 least witnessed in order to form any just conceptions of its 
 nature and effects. 
 
 What a striking example did our dying friend now 
 exhibit to us! From his early youth he had devoted 
 himself with delight and industry to the acquisition of 
 knowledge, and the pursuits of literature and science; 
 and he had " had his reward " in the honor and reputa- 
 tion which his success had procured for him — a reward 
 which he keenly enjoyed and very highly prized. Those 
 who have known only the pleasures which arise from 
 worldly gratifications, surely ought to recollect, that, 
 being confessedly ignorant of those spiritual enjoyments 
 which they despise, they cannot be competent to decide 
 upon their reality or their value ; it belongs only to those 
 who have experienced both, to appreciate either. And 
 how did Dr. Bateman appreciate them 1 In contrasting, 
 as he frequently did, his present happiness with all that 
 he had formerly enjoyed and called happiness, he seemed 
 always at a loss to find words to express how poor, and 
 mean, and despicable all earthly gratifications appeared 
 to him, when compared with that " joy and peace in be- 
 lieving," which now filled his soul : and " one particle of 
 which," he sometimes said, " ten thousand worlds would 
 not tempt him him to part with." 
 
 And it should be remembered, that this was not the 
 evidence of a man disappointed in his worldly pursuits ; 
 he had already, as before observed, " had his reward," in 
 this world — he had experienced the utmost success in 
 the path which he had chosen — he had been keenly sus- 
 ceptible of intellectual pleasures ; and of these, as well as 
 of all inferior amusements, he had enjoyed more than a 
 common portion; but when the only object that can sat- 
 isfy the affections, and fill the capacities of a rational 
 
THOMAS BATEMAN. 259 
 
 and iilimoi'tal being was revealed to him — when he 
 viewed, by the eye of faith, that Hfe and immortaUty 
 which are brought to hglit in the gospel — earthly fame, 
 and honor, and pleasure sunk into the dust ; and, in re- 
 flecting upon his past life, the only thing that gave him 
 any satisfaction, was the hope that his labors might have 
 been beneficial to his fellow creatures, for whom his 
 charity had now become unbounded. He often said, that 
 " the blessing of his conversion was never out of his mind, 
 day or night; that it was a theme of perpetual thanks- 
 giving ; and that he never awoke m the night without 
 being overwhelmed with joy and gratitude in the recol- 
 lection of it." He always spoke of his long bodily 
 afflictions, with the most devout thankfulness, as having 
 been instrumental in bringing him to God; and considered 
 his almost total blindness, as an especial mercy, because, 
 by shutting out external objects, it had enabled him to 
 devote his mind more entirely to spiritual things. Often, 
 latterl3^ he expressed an ardent desire to " depart and to 
 be with Christ ; " but alwaj's added, that he was cheer- 
 fully willing to wait the Lord's pleasure, certain that if 
 he w^as continued in this world it was only for his own 
 good, and to make him more " meet to be a partaker of 
 the inheritance of the saints in light." 
 
 He bore his bodily afflictions with the most exemplary 
 patience, and even cheerfulness, and continually expressed 
 his thankfulness, that they were not greater; sometimes 
 saying, " What a blessing it is to be allowed to slip gently 
 and gradually out of life as I am doing ! " He would 
 not allow any one to speak of his sufferings, always say- 
 ing, " they did not deserve a stronger name than incon- 
 veniences." He neither complained himself, nor would 
 permit others to complain for him. Once, when tl>e 
 
260 THOMAS BATEMAN. 
 
 nurse who attended him said, "Oh that cough! how 
 troublesome it is ! " he replied, " Have a little patience, 
 nurse; I shall soon be in a better world; and what a 
 glorious change that will be ! " Indeed, the joy of his 
 mind seemed to have absorbed all sense of his physical 
 sufferings. I once remarked to him, that he appeared to 
 have experienced no intermission of these joyful feelings ; 
 and he answered, " For some months past never, and 
 never the smallest rising of anything like impatience or 
 complaint." His mind, naturally active and ardent, re- 
 tained all its powers in full vigor to the last moment of 
 his life ; and was never once clouded, or debilitated, even 
 in the most depressing nervous languor. Indeed, after 
 the whole current of his tastes and affections had been 
 turned into a new channel, its ardor and activity rather 
 increased than diminished, from the deep conviction which 
 he felt of the superiority of his present views and pursuits, 
 to all that had hitherto engrossed him. 
 
 During the last week of his life, especially, the strength 
 and clearness of his intellect, and of his spiritual percep- 
 tions, were very remarkable ; and on its being one day 
 observed to him, that as his bodily powers decayed, those 
 of his soul seemed to become vigorous, he replied, •' They 
 do, exactly in an inverse ratio ; I have been very sensible 
 of it." He conversed with the greatest animation all the 
 day, and almost all the night, preceding his death, prin- 
 cipally on the joys of heaven, and the glorious change 
 he was soon to experience; often exclaiming, "What a 
 happy hour will the hour of death be ! " 
 
 He dwelt much on the description of the new Jerusa- 
 lem in the Revelations of St. John, and listened with 
 great delight, to several passages from Baxter's " Saint's 
 Rest," and to some of Watts' hymns on the same bubject. 
 
"THOMAS BATEHAX. 261 
 
 Once in the night he said to his mother, ' Surely you are 
 iiot in tears! Mine is a case that calls for rejoicing, and 
 iiot for sorrow. Only think what it will be to drop this 
 poor, frail, perishing body, and to go to the glories that are 
 set before me ! " 
 
 Not more than an hour before his death, when he had 
 been expressing his faith and hope in very animated 
 terms, I remarked to him, how striking the uniformity of 
 faith and of feeling expressed by believers at every dis- 
 tance of time and place, and spoke of it as an indisputa- 
 ble evidence that these graces are wrought by " one and 
 the self-same Spirit," and, as the proof of the truth of the 
 Bible, the promises and descriptions of which are thus so 
 strikingly fulfilled and exemplified. He entered into the 
 argument with his accustomed energy, and assented to 
 its truth with delight. It seemed remarkable, that though 
 he had, during his whole illness, been very sensible of his 
 increasing weakness, and had watched and marked ac- 
 curately all its gradations, yet he spoke, in the last mo- 
 ments of his life, of going down stairs as usual, (he had 
 been carried up and down for several days,) and said " it 
 could not require more than a few weeks now to wear 
 him out ; " not appearing to be at all aware that his end 
 was so very near, till about half an hour before his death. 
 Finding himself extremely languid, he took a little milk, 
 and desired that air might be admitted into the room ; and 
 en being asked if he felt relieved at all, said, " Very little : 
 I can hardly distinguish, indeed, whether this is languor 
 or drowsiness which has come over me ; but it is a very 
 agreeable feeling." Soon after, he suddenly remarked, 
 " I surely must be going now, my strength sinks so fast;" 
 and on my making some observation on the glorious pros- 
 pect before him, he added, " Oh, yes ! I am glad to go, if 
 *23 
 
262 THOMAS BATEMAN. 
 
 it be the Lord's will." He shut his eyes and lay quite 
 composed, and by and bye said, " What glory ! the angels 
 are waiting for me ! " then, after another short interval of 
 quiet, added, " Lord Jesus, receive my soul !" and to those 
 who were about him, " Farewell ! " These v/ere the last 
 words he spoke : he gradually and gently sunk away, 
 and in about ten minutes breathed his last, calmly, and 
 without a struggle, at nine in the morning of the 9th of 
 April, the very day on which, twelve months before, his 
 mind had first been awakened to the hopes and joys of 
 the ever blessed gospel. 
 
 Let the shallow and flippant sceptic read this memoir, 
 and if he will not be convinced that there is a glorious re- 
 ality in the rehgion of the Bible, let him " behold and de- 
 spise and wonder and perish." No one can deny that Dr. 
 Bateman possessed a vionorous and independent mind, 
 and that he was less liable than most men to be swayed 
 by inconclusive arguments, or any delusive impulse. He 
 felt all the aversion of a proud and philosophic unbeliever, 
 to the searching and arousing truths of the Bible. Noth- 
 ing seemed more improbable, either to himself or his 
 friends, than a radical change of his religious opinions. 
 And yet, no sooner did he turn his thoughts seriously to 
 the evidences of revealed religion, than the fabric of ma- 
 terialism, which he had been long trying to build up, be- 
 gan to crumble. He could not support it for an hour. 
 
 The truth of God flashed in like a sunbeam upon his 
 mind, and he saw and believed. 
 
 Let those who are " going about to establish their own 
 righteousness, and will not submit themselves to the right- 
 eousness of God," mark well the convictions of Dr. Bate- 
 man's mind, touching the only way of justification for a 
 sinner. How convulsively, I had alm.ost said, did he 
 
THOMAS BATEMAN. 263 
 
 cling to the cross of Christ, as his only hope ! How deep- 
 ly did he loathe and abhor himself! 
 
 Let Christians read this, and magnify the grace of God, 
 as displayed in the conversion, subsequent life and trium- 
 phant death of Dr. Bateman. What but the new creating 
 energy of the Holy Spirit, could ever have wrought such 
 a change as he evidently experienced? What other 
 power is there, that can " bring a sinner thus out of dark- 
 ness unto God's marvellous light?" 
 
 Finally, let the pious reader of these pages, should he 
 ever be placed in similar circumstances, follow the judi- 
 cious example of the writer, in carefully avoiding disputa- 
 tion. Infinitely more is to be expected from uniform 
 kindness, and the clear and steady light of Christian ex- 
 ample. " Dr. Bateman," says his enlightened biographer, 
 " was habitually fond of argument, and skilled in it ; and 
 I knew that I was quite incompetent to argue with him. 
 I considered too, that the habit of disputing in favor of 
 any opinion, only serves, in general, to rivet it more firm- 
 ly in the mind ; as men commonly find their own argu- 
 ments more conclusive than those of their adversaries." 
 This train of remark is founded upon a deep knowledge 
 of human nature; and I have not a single doubt, that 
 many have reasoned themselves into incurable and fatal 
 unbelief, who might have been drawn away by the cords 
 of love, from the paths in which their feet were beginning 
 to slide, 
 
CHAPTER X, 
 
 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 Richard Baxter was born at Rowton, Shropshire, NoV. 
 12th, 1615. His father having been converted himself, 
 chiefly through the instrumentality of reading the Scrip- 
 tures, early and anxiously directed the attention of this 
 his only son, to the same source of divine illumination. 
 Nor were his instructions and efforts altogether in vain. 
 Young Richard possessed an uncommonly inquisitive 
 mind, and the Bible soon awakened the rebukes of his 
 conscience^ 
 
 •' At first," says he, in the history of his own life and 
 times, " my father set me to read the historical parts of the 
 Scripture, which, suiting with my nature, greatly de- 
 lighted me; and though all that time I neither understood 
 nor relished much, the doctrinal part, and mj^stery of re- 
 deniption, yet it did me good, by acquainting me with the 
 matters of fact, and drawing me on to love the Bible, and 
 to search by degrees into the rest. 
 
 But though my conscience would trouble me when I 
 sinned, yet divers sins I was addicted to, and often com- 
 mitted against my conscience ; which, for the warning of 
 others, I will here confess. 
 
266 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 i. I was much addicted, when I feared correction, to 
 iie, that I might escape. 
 
 2. I was much addicted to the excessive gluttonous 
 eating of apples and pears, which, I think, laid the foun- 
 dation of that weakness of my stomach, which caused tiie 
 bodilj'- calamities of my life. 
 
 3. To this end, and to concur with naughty boys that 
 gloried in evil, I have often gone into other men's or- 
 chards, and stolen their fruit, when I had enough at 
 home. 
 
 4. I was somewhat excessively addicted to play, and 
 that with covetousness, for money. 
 
 5. I was extremely bewitched with a love of roman- 
 ces, fables, and old tales, which corrupted my affections, 
 and lost my time. 
 
 6. I was guilty of much idle foolish chat, and imita- 
 tion of boys in scurrillous foolish words and actions, though 
 I durst not swear. 
 
 7. I was too proud of my masters' com.mendations for 
 learning, who all of them fed my pride, making me 
 seven or eight years the highest in the school, and boast- 
 ing of me to others ; which, though it furthered my learn- 
 ing, yet helped not my humility. 
 
 8. I was too bold and irreverent towards my parents. 
 
 Those were my sins, for which, in my childhood, con- 
 science troubled me for a great while before they were 
 overcome." 
 
 His convictions gathered strength, although occasion- 
 ly resisted. The temptations to neglect religion were 
 strong and powerful. The reproach cast on his father, 
 and others, who, for their desire and pursuit of holiness, 
 were contemptuously designated " Puritans," proved for 
 a season, a stumbling block in his path ? Still, however, 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 267 
 
 the reflecting mind of the son, led him to discern the dif- 
 ference between the conduct of his father, and that of his 
 cahimniators, and to conclude that there was more of 
 reason and truth in a life of holiness, than in a life of im- 
 piety and rebellion against the Majesty of heaven. He 
 says : — 
 
 " In the village where I lived, the reader read the com- 
 mon prayer briefly ; and ihe rest of the day, even till 
 dark night almost, except eating time, was spent in danc- 
 ing under a may-pole and a great tree, not far from my 
 father's door, where all the town did meet together; and 
 though one of my father's own tenant's was the piper, he 
 could not restrain him, nor break the sport; so that we 
 could not read the Scripture in our family, without the 
 great disturbance of the tabor and pipe, and noise in the 
 street ! Many times my mind was inclined to be among 
 them, and sometimes 1 broke loose from conscience and 
 joined with them ; and the more I did it, the more I was 
 inclined to it. But when I heard them call my father 
 ' Puritan,' it did much to cure me and alienate me from 
 them; for I considered that my father's exercise of read- 
 ing the Scripture was better than theirs, and would .sure- 
 ly be better thought of by all men at the last ; and I con- 
 sidered what it was for that he and others were thus 
 derided. When I heard them speak scornfully of others, 
 as Puritans, whom I never knew, I was apt at first to be- 
 lieve all the lies and slanders wherewith they loaded 
 them ; but, when 1 heard my own father so reproached, 
 and perceived that drunkards were the forwardcst in the 
 reproach, I perceived that it was mere malice. For mv 
 father never scrupled common prayer, or ceremonies, nor 
 spoke against bishops, nor even so much as praj'ed but by 
 a book or form, being not even acquainted then with any 
 
268 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 that did otherwise. But only for reading Scripture when 
 the rest were dancing on the Lord's day, and for praying, 
 by a form out of the end of the commom prayer book, in 
 his house, and for reproving drunkards and swearers, and 
 for talking sometimes a few words of Scripture, and about 
 the Ufe to come, he was reviled commonly by the name 
 of Puritan, Precisian, and Hypocrite ; and so were the 
 godly conformable ministers that lived anywhere in the 
 country near us, not only by our neighbors, but by the 
 common talk of the vulgar rabble of all about us. By 
 this experience I was fully convinced that godly people 
 were the best, and those that despised them, and lived in 
 sin and pleasure, were a malignant unhappy sort of peo- 
 ple ; and this kept me out of their company, except 
 now and then, when the love of sports and play en- 
 ticed me. 
 
 Thus does God often bring good out of evil, and cause 
 the wrath of man to praise him. Strongly prejudiced as 
 Baxter was at this time against the Puritans, there is 
 every reason to think that his dislike would have ripened 
 into a settled and incurable hostility, not only to the " sect 
 which was then everywhere spoken against," but to the 
 gospel of Jesus Christ, had not his own father, of whose 
 sincerity and piety he could have no doubt, been so wan- 
 tonly reviled. Little did the enemies of truth and righte- 
 ousness know what they were doing to promote the cause 
 which was the standing theme of their obloquy. Little 
 did they suspect, what a champion of Puritanism they 
 were nursing in the cradle of persecution. And little, 
 probably, did the pious father of young Richard expect, 
 that the storm which beat upon his own head, would in- 
 duce his beloved son to examine and embrace the very 
 system of faith and practice which occasioned it. 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 269 
 
 Mr. Baxter thus proceeds : — 
 
 •' When alDout fifteen years of age, it pleased God of 
 his wonderful mercy, to open my ej^es with a clearer in- 
 sight into the concerns and case of my own soul, and to 
 touch my heart with a livelier feeling of things spiritual 
 than ever [ had found before." While under this con- 
 cern, a poor man in the town lent his father an old torn 
 book, entitled, "Bunyan's Resolutions." "In reading 
 this book," he observes, " it pleased God to awaken my 
 soul, and show me the folly of sinning, and the misery of 
 the wicked, and the inexpressible weight of things eter- 
 nal and the necessity of resolving on a holy life, more 
 than I was ever acquainted with before. The same 
 things which I knew before, came now in another man- 
 ner, with light, and sense, and seriousness to my heart. 
 
 Yet whether sincere conversion began now, or before, 
 or after, I was never able to this day to know ; for I had 
 before had some love to the things and people which were 
 good, and a restraint from other sins, except those before- 
 mentioned, and so much from these that 1 seldom com- 
 mitted most of them, and when I did, it was with great 
 reluctance. And, both now and formerly, I knew that 
 Christ was the only Mediator, by whom we must have 
 pardon, justification, and life: but even at that time, I 
 had little lively sense of the love of God in Christ to the 
 world or me, nor of my special need of him. 
 
 About this time it pleased God that a poor pedlar came 
 to the door that had ballads and some good books, and 
 my father bought of him Dr. Sibb's ' Bruised Reed.' This 
 also 1 read, and found it suited to my taste, and seasona- 
 bly sent me; which opened more the love of God to me, 
 and gave me a livel er apprehension of the mj'stery of re- 
 demption, and how much I was beholden to Jesus Christ. 
 24 
 
270 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 After this, we had a servant that had a little piece of 
 Mr. Perkins' works, ' Of Repentance,' and the right ' Art 
 of Hving and dying well,' and the ' Government of the 
 Tongue ;' and the reading of that did further inform me, 
 and confirm me. And thus, without any means but 
 books, was God pleased to resolve me for himself." 
 
 Various are the means by which God awakens the 
 soul to a sense of its danger, and leads it to the knowl- 
 edge and enjoyment of himself. The pulpit and the 
 school, conversation and reading, correspondence and ad- 
 vices, have been employed as instruments in the hands of 
 the Eternal Spirit in effecting the conversion of souls. 
 To preaching, as the express appointment of God, must 
 be ascribed the highest place ; but inferior only to it is the 
 instrumentahty of reading religious books especially. In 
 places where the preaching of the gospel is unknown or 
 unattended, the distribution of religious books is of the ut- 
 most importance. To such books Baxter was greatly in- 
 debted for his conversion : and having derived so much ben- 
 efit from this means, he ever after employed it extensively 
 among his friends, his flock, and all to whom his influence 
 would reach. The facilities afforded, in the present day, 
 for the dissemination of religious knowledge are truly as- 
 tonishing ; and among others, the efforts of Religious Tract 
 Societies with their millions of publications, should not 
 be overlooked. Many will arise in the last day, and ac- 
 knowledge that their conversion was effected by means of 
 these publications. Nor is it the least advantage of th's 
 and similar institutions, that they afford an opportunity 
 to persons in the humblest circumstances to be instrumen- 
 tal in doing good to their fellow creatures. They can 
 give a tract, though they cannot deliver a discourse; they 
 can send a tract, where they cannot visit in person ; they 
 
RICHARD BAXTER, v S71 
 
 can circulate books where ihey cannot engage in reli- 
 gious conversation. In the formation of Baxter's early 
 religious opinions and character, we see the instrumental- 
 ity of a laborer, a pedlar, and a servant employed. The 
 sovereignty of God is clearly seen in the agents and 
 means of salvation. " His wisdom is unsearchable, and 
 his ways are past finding out." " To God only wise be 
 all the glory." 
 
 Baxter's early education was greatly neglected. His 
 professed teachers were either incompetent to their task, 
 or suffered him to be occupied rather as he chose, than 
 according to any regular rule. Notwithstanding this 
 neglect and irregularity, he made considerable progress. 
 He rose superior to every difficulty, and indue time be- 
 came qualified to enter the university. He was persuaded, 
 however, not to enter college, but to pursue his studies 
 under the direction of Mr. VVickshead, chaplain to the 
 council at Ludlow Castle. Being his onl}^ pupil, it was 
 expected that, through the undivided attention of his tu- 
 tor, his proficiency would be greater than either at Cam- 
 bridge or Oxford. The preceptor became much attached 
 to the pupil ; but being in earnest quest of place and pre- 
 ferment, he neglected his charge. He allowed him 
 " books and time enough," but never seriously attempted 
 to instruct and improve his mind. Nor was this the 
 only disadvantage attending his residence at Ludlow; 
 for he was thrown into gay and fashionable society, and 
 w^as exposed to the various temptations incident to such a 
 situation. His religious principles were in danger of be- 
 ing corrupted or destroyed by the practice of gambling, 
 but he was enabled, by the gr?Ke of God, to escape the 
 snare, and to resist all subsequent attempts to lead him 
 astray. 
 
272 ., RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 In this situation he formed an intimacy with a young 
 man of professed seriousness and piety, but who, at length, 
 by the seductive influence of Uquor, became an apostate. 
 At this period, however, he instructed young Baxter "in 
 the way of God more perfectly;" pra^^ed with him, ex- 
 horted and encouraged him in his religious course, and 
 thus became of essential service to his j^oung friend. Bax- 
 ter remained with his tutor about a year and a half, and 
 then returned home. At the request of Lord Newport, he 
 took the charge at the grammar school at Wroxeter for a 
 short time, as the master was in a dying state. On his 
 death, Baxter left his charge, and pursued his studies and 
 religious inquiries under the direction of that venerable 
 saint, Mr. Garbett, a minister of Wroxeter. 
 
 The health of Baxter was in a precarious state, and 
 in ♦ihe prospect of eternity, he became more solicitous to 
 improve his remaining days in the worship, and ways and 
 service of God. He says : 
 
 " Being in expectation of death, by a violent cough, 
 with spitting of blood, &c. of two years' continuance, sup- 
 posed to be a deep degree of consumption, I was yet more 
 awakened to be serious, and solicitous about my soul's 
 everlasting state ; and I came so short of that sense 
 and seriousness, which a matter of such infinite weight 
 required, that I was many years in doubt of my sincerity, 
 and thought 1 had no spiritual life at all. I wondered 
 at the senseless hardness of my heart, that I could think 
 and talk of sin and hell, and Christ, and grace, of God 
 and heaven, with no more feeling. I cried out from day 
 to day for grace against this senseless deadness. I called 
 myself the most hard-hearted sinner, that could feel noth- 
 ing of all that I knew and talked of. I was not then 
 sensible of the incomparable excellence of holy love, and 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 273 
 
 delight in God, nor much employed in thanksgiving and 
 praise; but all my groans were for more contrition, and 
 a broken heart, and I prayed most for tears and tender- 
 ness. 
 
 And thus I complained for many years to God and 
 man; and between the expectations of death, and the 
 doubts of my own sincerity in grace, I was kept in some 
 more care of my salvation, than my nature, too stupid and 
 too far from melancholy, was easily brought to. 
 
 Thus was I long kept with the calls of approaching 
 death at one ear, and the questionings of a doubtful con- 
 science at the other ; and since then I have found that 
 this method of God's was very wise, and no other was so 
 likelj'- to have tended to my good. These benefits of it I 
 sensibly perceived. 
 
 1. It made me vile and loathsome to myself, and made 
 pride one of the most hateful sins in the world to me. 
 I thought of myself as I now think of a detestable sinner, 
 and my enemy ; that is, with a love of benevolence, wish- 
 ing them well, but with little love of complacency at all • 
 and the long continuance of it tended the more effectually 
 to a habit. 
 
 2. It much restrained me f om that sportful levity and 
 vanity which my nature and 3^outhfulness did much in- 
 cline me to, and caused nne to meet temptations to sensu- 
 ality with the greatest fear, and made them less effectual 
 against me. 
 
 3. It made the doctrine of redemption the more savory 
 to me, and my thoughts of Christ to be more serious and 
 regardful, than before they were. I remember, in the be- 
 ginning, how savory to my reading, was Mr. Perkins' 
 short treatise of the ' Right Knowledge of Christ crucifi- 
 
 ^24 
 
274 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 ed,' and his ' Exposition of the Creed,' because ihey taught 
 me how to live by faith. 
 
 4. It made the world seem to me as a carcass that had 
 neither life nor loveliness, and it destroyed that ambitious 
 desire after literary fame, which was the sin of my child- 
 hood, I had a desire before to have attained the highest 
 academical degrees and reputation of learning, and to 
 have chosen out my studies accordingly, but sickness, and 
 solicitousness for my doubting soul, did shame away all 
 these thoughts as follies and children's plays." 
 
 Pious young men of Baxter's temperament, are liable, 
 in prosecuting their studies, to cherish the same inordi- 
 nate desire for academic honors and distinctions. There 
 can be no doubt that this is often exceedingly detrimental 
 to growth in grace in our literary institutions. It is a sin 
 which easily besets the most gifted and promising sons of 
 the church, and against v/hich they cannot be too ear- 
 nestly exhorted to watch and pray. But this is not the 
 only danger. We have known religious young men pass 
 from the extreme just mentioned, into the opposite. Be- 
 cause literary ambition is seen to be sinful and felt to he 
 deadening to piety, they have drawn the unreasonable 
 conclusion, that distinguished scholarship is incompatible 
 with high religious attainments. Under this erroneous 
 impression, we have known persons of good talents de- 
 claim against classical studies to their own irreparable 
 injury, and the serious detriment of others, over whom 
 they have gained an influence. Is is absurd to suppose 
 that learning is necessarily hostile to piety. Both may 
 exist together in a high degree. Naj^ the growth of one 
 may directly aid and quicken the growth of the other, as 
 it would be eas}^ to prove, were this the proper place for 
 such a discussion. 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 275 
 
 "5. It set me upon that method of my studies, which, 
 shice then, I have found the benefit of, though at the 
 time I was not satisfied with myself. It caused me first 
 to seek God's kingdom and his righteousness, and most 
 to mind the one thing needful; and to determine first of 
 my ultimate end, by which I was engaged to choose out 
 and prosecute all other studies but as meant to that end. 
 Therefore, divinity w^as not only carried on, with the rest 
 of my studies, with an equal hand, but always had the 
 first and chief place. And it caused me to study prac- 
 tical divinity first, in the most practical books, in a prac- 
 tical order; doing all purposely for the informing and re- 
 forming of my own soul. 
 
 And as for those doubts of my own salvation, which 
 exercised me many years, the chief causes of them were 
 these : — 
 
 1. Because I could not distinctly trace the workings of 
 the Spirit upon my heart, in that method by which Mr. 
 Bolton, Mr. Hooker, Mr. Rogers, and other divines de- 
 scribe ; nor knew the time of conversion, being wrought 
 on by the forementioned degrees. But, since then, I un- 
 derstood that the soul is in too dark and passionate a 
 plight at first, to be able to keep^an exact account of the 
 order of its own operations; and that preparatory grace, 
 being sometimes longer, and sometimes shorter, and the 
 first degrees of special grace being usually very small, it 
 is not possible that one of very many should be able to 
 give any true account of the just time when special 
 grace began, and advanced him above the state of prepa^ 
 ration." 
 
 Wc are far from thinking, that every Christian can 
 tell the very hour or day, when he ' passed fiom death to 
 
276 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 life.' Perhaps the majority cannot. We are persuaded, 
 however, that such cases are by no means so rare as Mr. 
 Baxter seems to have supposed. Certainly they were 
 greatly multiplied in the first age of the Christian church. 
 Judging from the Acts of the Apostles, it would seem as 
 if the greater part of the early converts must have known 
 the very time when they were ' brought out of darkness 
 into God's marvellous light; ' and sure we are, that in the 
 glorious revivals of which our country has been made the 
 theatre, during the last five and twenty years, great 
 multitudes have stated without hesitation, that if they 
 were ever regenerated, the change must have taken place 
 at or very near the times which they could specify. 
 Much will depend upon the kind of instruction which 
 persons receive from their religious teachers, in answer to 
 the all-important inquiry, ' What must I do to be saved?' 
 If the preaching and conversation are direct and searching 
 and scriptural — if the plague of their own hearts is 
 clearly laid open to then' view — if the truth is made to 
 blaze upon their awakened consciences, as it ought to be, 
 there will not only be many more real converts, than un- 
 der any other kind of religious instruction, but a much 
 larger proportion of them will be able to fix upon the day, 
 or week of their conversion. 
 
 " 2. My second doubt was as aforesaid, because of the 
 hardness of my heart, or want of such lively apprehension 
 of things spiritual, which I had about things corporeal. 
 And though I still groan under this, as my sin and want, 
 3^et I now perceive that a soul in flesh doth work so 
 much after the manner of the flesh, that it much desireth 
 sensible apprehensions ; but things spiritual and distant 
 are not so apt to work upon them, and to stir the passions, 
 as things present and sensible are. 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 277 
 
 8. My next doubt was, lest education and fear had 
 done all that ever was done upon my soul, and regenera- 
 tion and love were yet to seek; because I had found 
 convictions from my childhood, and found more fear than 
 love in all my duties and restraints. 
 
 But I afterwards perceived that education is God's or- 
 dinary way for the conveyance of his grace, and ought 
 no more to be set in opposition to the Spirit, than the 
 preaching of the word ; and that it was the great mercy 
 of God to begin with me so soon, and to prevent such sins 
 as else ujight have been my shame and sorrow while I 
 lived ; and that repentance is good, but prevention and 
 innocence better; which though we cannot attain in 
 perfection, yet the more the better. And 1 understood, 
 that, though fear without love be not a state of sa.ving 
 grace, and greater love to the world than to God be not 
 consistent with sincerity, yet a little predominant love, 
 prevailing against worldly love, conjoined with a far 
 greater measure of fear, may be a state of special grace. 
 And 1 found that my hearty love of the word of God, and 
 of the servants of God, and my desires to be more holy, 
 and especially the hatred of my heart for loving God no 
 more, and my wish to love him, and be pleasing to him, 
 was not without some love to himself, though it worked 
 more sensibly on his nearer image. 
 
 4, Another of my doubts was, because my grief and 
 humiliation were no greater, and because 1 could weep no 
 more for this. 
 
 But I understood, at last, that God breaketh not all 
 men's hearts alike, and that the gradual proceedings of 
 his grace might be one cause, and my nature, not apt to 
 weep for other things, another. And, that the change of 
 our heart from sin to God, is true repentance; and a 
 
278 RICHARb BAXTER. 
 
 loathing of ourselves, is true humiliation ; and that he 
 that had rather leave his sin, than have leave to keep it, 
 and had rather be the most holy, than have leave to be 
 unholy or less holy, is neither without true repentance nor 
 the love of God. 
 
 5. Another of my doubts was, because I. had, after my 
 change, committed some sins deliberately and knowingly. 
 And, be they ever so small, 1 thought, he that could sin 
 upon knowledge and deliberation had no true grace ; and 
 that, if I had but had as strong temptations to forni- 
 cation, drunkenness, fraud, or other more heinous sins, I 
 might also have committed them ! And if these proved 
 that 1 had then no saving grace, after all that I had felt, 
 I thought it unlikely that ever I should have any. 
 
 The means by which God was pleased to give me some 
 peace and comfort were — 
 
 1. The reading of many consolatory books. 
 
 2. The observation of other men's condition. When I 
 heard many make the very same complaints that I did, 
 who were people of whom I had the best esteem, for the 
 uprightness and holiness of their lives, it much abated my 
 fears and troubles. And, in particular, it much comforted 
 me to read him whom I loved, as one of the holiest of all 
 the martyrs, John Bradford, subscribing himself so often, 
 ' The hard-hearted sinner,' and ' The miserable hard- 
 hearted sinner,' even as I was used to do myself. 
 
 3. And it much increased my peace, when God's 
 providence called me to the comforting of many others 
 that had the same complaints. While I answered their 
 doubts, I answered my own ; and the charity which I 
 was constrained to exercise for them, redounded to myself, 
 and insensibly abated my fears, and procured me an in- 
 crease of quietness of mind. 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 279 
 
 And yet after all, I was glad of probabilities instead of 
 full undoubted certainties ; and to this very day, though 
 I have no such degree of doubtfulness as is any great 
 trouble to my soul, or proclaimeth any great disquieting 
 fears, yet cannot I say that I have such a sincerity in 
 grace, as excluded all doubts and fears of the contrary." 
 It would be extremely interesting, did the leading de- 
 sign of this little volume permit, to follow this devoted 
 servant of Christ through all the changes of his long and 
 eventful life ; to see how he filled the humble sphere, 
 which as a minister, he first occupied at Dudley, — to 
 follow him from Dudley to Bridgenorth, — from Bridge- 
 north to Kidderminster, and thence to the Parliamentary 
 army, and then back to Kidderminster; — to see him 
 now prcLiching before the Lord Protector, and anon ar- 
 raigned as a culprit before the execrated Jeffries, — to fol- 
 low him to prison — to commune with him in his bonds, 
 to rejoice with the church in his enlargement, — toad- 
 mire the astonishing energies of his mind, under the ex- 
 cruciating pains of sickness, and the infirmities of old age, 
 and to witness his triumphant departure, for the Sainfs 
 Everlasting Rest. And narrow as our limits are, I am 
 sure the pious reader would be greatly disappointed, not 
 to find in these pages, a brief outline, at least, of his Chris- 
 tian and m.inisterial character. 
 
 The following extracts from his life and times, will 
 show how he discharged the duties of the sacred office, 
 and how abundant were the fruits of his labors. 
 
 " I preached, before the wars, twice each Lord's day; 
 but, after the war, but once, and once every Thursday, 
 besides occasional sermons. Every Thursday evenmg, 
 my neighbors that were most desirous and had opportu- 
 nity, met at my house, and there one of them repeat- 
 
280 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 ed the sermon, and afterwards ihey proposed what doubts 
 any of them had about the sermon, or any other case of 
 conscience, and I resolved their doubts. And, hist of all, 
 I caused sometimes one, and sometimes another of them to 
 pray, to exercise them ; and sometimes I prayed with them 
 myself, which, besides singing a psalm, was all they did. 
 And once a week, also, some of the younger sort, who 
 were not fit to pray in so great an assembly, met among 
 a few more privately, where they spent three hours in 
 prayer together. Every Saturday night they met at 
 some of their houses, to repeat the serm.on of the last 
 Lord's day, and to pray and prepare themselves for the 
 following day. Once in a few weeks, we had a day of 
 humiHation, on one occasion or other. Every religious 
 woman that was safely delivered, instead of the old feast- 
 ings and gossipings, if they were able, did keep a day of 
 thanksgiving, with some of their neighbors with them, 
 praising God, and singing psalms, and soberly feasting 
 together. Two days every week, my assistant and I my- 
 self, took fourteen families between us, for private cate- 
 chizing and conference: he going through the parish, and 
 the town coming to me. I first heard them recite the 
 words of the catechism, and then examined them about 
 the sense, and lastly urged them, with all possible enga- 
 ging reason and vehemence, to answerable affection and 
 practice. If any of them were perplexed, through ignorance 
 or bashfulness, 1 forebore to press them any farther to 
 answers, but made them hearers, and either examined 
 others, or turned all into instruction and exhortation. 
 But this I have opened more fully in my ' Reformed Pas- 
 tor.' I spent about an hour with a family, and admitted 
 no others to be present, lest bashfulness should make it 
 burdensome, or any should talk of the weakness of others. 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 281 
 
 So that all the afternoons, on Mondays and Tuesdays, I 
 spent in this, after I had begun it ; and my assistant spent 
 the mornings of the same days in the same employment. 
 Before that, I only cateohized them in the church, and 
 conferred with, one occasionally." 
 
 Sach a course of preaching and pastoral labors steadily 
 pursued in humble reliance upon the Divine Spirit, can 
 never be in vain, while God continues to own and bless 
 the means of his own appointment. Verj^ few laborers in 
 the vineyard of Christ, have been more diligent in sowing 
 the good seed, than Mr. Baxter was, during the period of 
 which he speaks in the preceding extract, and how rich 
 and precious a harvest he soon gathered, we hear from 
 what immediately follows. 
 
 " I have mentioned my sweet and acceptable employ- 
 ment : let me, to the praise of my gracious Lord, acquaint 
 you with some of my success. And I will not suppress it, 
 though 1 foreknow that the ignorant will impute the 
 mention of it to pride and ostentation. For it is the sac- 
 rifice of thanksgiving which I owe to my most gracious 
 God, which I will not deny for fear of being censured as 
 proud, lest I prove myself proud indeed, while I cannot 
 undergo ihe imputation of pride in the performance of my 
 thanks for such undeserved mercies. 
 
 My public preaching met with an attentive, diligent 
 auditory. Having broke over the bounds of the opposi- 
 tion of the rabble before the wars, I found them afterwards 
 tractable and unpr-^judiced. 
 
 Before I ever entered into the ministry, God blessed 
 
 my private conference to the conversion of some, who 
 
 remain firm and eminent in holiness to this day. Then, 
 
 and in the beginning of my ministry, I was wont to num- 
 
 25 
 
282 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 ber them as jewels; but since then I could not keep any 
 number of them. 
 
 The congregation was usually full, so that we were 
 fain to build ^ye galleries after my coming thither, the 
 church itself being very capacious, and the most commo- 
 dious and convenient that ever I was in. Our private 
 meetings were also full. On the Lord's dia.y there was 
 no disorder to be seen in the streets, but you might hear a 
 hundred families singing psalms and repeating sermons, 
 as you passed through the streets. In a word, when 1 
 came thither first, there was about one family in a street 
 that worshipped God and called on his name ; and when 
 I came away, there were some streets where there was 
 not more than one family in the side of as trect, that did not 
 so; and that did not, by professing serious godhness, give 
 us hopes of their sincerity .And those families which v/ere 
 the worst, being inns and alehouses, usually some per- 
 sons in each house, did seem to be religious. Though 
 our administration of the Lord's supper, was so ordered as 
 to displease many, and by far the greater part kept awa}^ 
 themselves, yet we had six hundred that were communi- 
 cants, of whom there were not twelve that I had not good 
 hopes of, as to their sincerity; and those few that did 
 consent to our communion, and yet lived scandalouslj^ 
 were excommunicated afterward. And I hope there were 
 many that had the fear of God, that came not to our 
 communion in the sacrament, some of them being kept 
 off by husbands, by parents, by masters, and some dis- 
 suaded by men that differed from us. 
 
 When I set upon personal conference with each family, 
 and catechizing them, there were very few families in all 
 the town, that refused to come ; and those few were beg- 
 gars at the town's end, who were so ignorant that they 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 283 
 
 were ashamed it should be manifest. And few families 
 went from me without some tears, or seemingly serious 
 promises for a godly life. Yet many ignorant and un- 
 godly persons there were still among us ; but most of 
 them were in the parish, and not in the town, and in those 
 parts of the parish which were farthest ftom the town. 
 Some poor men did competently understand the body of 
 divinity, and were able to judge in difficult controversies. 
 Some of them were so able in prayer, that very few minis- 
 ters did match them, in order and fullness, and apt ex- 
 pression, and holy oratory, with fervency. Abundance of 
 them were able to praj^ very laudably with their families 
 or with others. The temper of their minds, and the cor- 
 rectness of their lives, were much more laudable than 
 their parts. The professors of serious godliness were 
 generally of very humble minds and carriage; of meek 
 and quiet behavior unto others; and of blamelessness in 
 their conversation. 
 
 And, in my poor endeavors with my brethren in the 
 ministry, my labors were not lost. Our discussions proved 
 not unprofitable ; our meetings were never contentious, 
 but always comfortable. We took great delight in the 
 company of each other; so that I know the remem- 
 brance of those days is pleasant, both to them and me. 
 
 When discouragements had long kept me from motion- 
 ing a way of church order and discipline, which all 
 might agree in, that we might neither have churches un- 
 governed, now fall into divisions among themselves, at 
 the first motioning of it, I found a readier consent than I 
 could expect, and all went on without any great obstruct- 
 ing difficulties. And when I attempted to bring them all 
 conjointly to the work of catechizing and instructing 
 every family by itself, I found a ready consent in most, 
 
284 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 and performance in many. So that I must here, to the 
 praise of my dear Redeemer, set up this pillar of remem- 
 brance, even to his praise who hath employed me so many 
 years in so comfortable a work, with such encouraging 
 success ! Oh ! what am 1, a worthless worm, not only 
 wanting academical honors, but much of that furniture 
 which is needful to so high a work, that God should 
 thus abundantly encourage me, when the reverend in- 
 structors of my youth did labor fifty years together in 
 one place, and could scarcel}'- say they had converted one 
 or two of their parishioners? And the greater w^as this 
 mercy, because I was naturally of a discouraged spirit ; 
 so that if I had preached one year, and seen no fruits of 
 it, I should hardly have foreborne running away like Jo- 
 nah, but should have thought that God called me not to 
 that place." 
 
 Here we feel bound to sa}^ what we fully believe, that 
 the whole history of the church during the seventeenth 
 century, does not furnish a more striking example, either 
 of ministerial fidelity, or success, than is exhibited in the 
 preceding record. It strongly reminds us of what Ed- 
 wards and Bellamy, and the servants were enabled to do, 
 and permitted to see, in America, a century later; and 
 of the still more copious effusions of the Spirit in our own 
 times. Baxter, indeed, does not say in so many words, 
 that there was ever a revival at Kidderminster. But if we 
 look at things, rather than words, how can we doubt that 
 there was a revival there of great power and long contin- 
 uance ? 
 
 In 1676, we find Mr. Baxter preaching, for a short time, 
 in the parish of Saint Martin, London, where " about 
 60,000 persons had no church to go to, nor any public 
 worship of God 1 " Being driven away from that great 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 285 
 
 and famishing population, he was for about eleven years 
 subjected to sore and almost continual persecution, from 
 the secret abettors of popery, and the open and ungodly 
 partizans of a misnamed Protestant conformity. His 
 goods were distrained; his books were carried off; his 
 character was traduced ; his person was seized; he was 
 most brutally insulted and vilified in the mockery of a ju- 
 dicial trial, and notwithstanding age and many infirmi- 
 ties, was thrown into prison. All his efforts to do good 
 were thwarted with demoniac vigilance and hate, and 
 wherever he went, " bonds and imprisonments await- 
 ed him." The following is a fair specimen of the man- 
 ner in which the most respectable and godly ministers 
 were treated by the highest law officer of Charles II. 
 
 " On the 28lh Feb. 1685, Baxter was committed to the 
 King's Bench prison, by warrant of Lord Chief Justice 
 Jeffries, for his ' Paraphrase on the New Testament,' 
 which had heen printed a little before; ^iid which was 
 described as a scandalous and seditioi-^ book against the 
 government. On his cammitment ^y the Chief Justice's 
 warrant, he applied for a habeas corpus, and having ob- 
 tained it, he absconded into the country to avoid impris- 
 onment, till the terra api-'foached. He was induced to do 
 this from the consta^it pain he endured, and an apprehen- 
 sion that he cou-'l( not bear the confinement of a prison. 
 
 On the 6tJi of May, which was the first day of the 
 term, he appeared in Westminster Hall, and an informa- 
 tion was then ordered to be drawn up against him. On 
 the 14th of May, he pleaded not guilty, to the informa- 
 tion. On the ISih of the same month, being much indis- 
 posed, it was moved that he might have further time given 
 him, before histrid, but this was denied him. He moved 
 for it by his counsel; but Jeffries cried out in a passion, 
 
286 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 • I will not give him a minute's time more, to save his 
 life. We have had to do,' said he, ' with other sorts of 
 persons, but now we have a saint to deal with, and I 
 know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. ' Yon- 
 der,' said he, ' stands Bates in the pillory,' (as he actually 
 did at that very time in the New Palace Yard,) ' and he 
 says he suffers for the truth, and so says Baxter; but if 
 Baxter did but stand on the other end of the pillory with 
 him, I would say, two of the greatest rogues and rascals 
 in the kingdom stood there.' 
 
 'When I saw,' says an eye-witness, 'the meek man 
 stand before the flaming eyes and fierce looks of this bigot, 
 I thought of Paul standing before Nero. The barbarous 
 usage wh ch he received drew plenty of tears from my 
 eyes, as well as from others of the auditors and spectators; 
 yet I c^uld not but smile sometimes, v.'hen I saw my lord 
 imitate oui modern pulpit drollerj^ which some one saith, 
 any one engagf>cl in such a design would not lose for the 
 world. He drove on furiously, like Hannibal over the 
 Alps, with fire and V^egar, pouring all the contempt and 
 scorn upon Baxter, as it r.^ had been a Hnk-boy or knave : 
 which made the people who ^ould not come near enough 
 to hear the indictment, or Mr. Baxter's plea, cry out, 
 ' Snri4y this Baxter had burned the ^ity, or the temple of 
 Delphos.' But others said, 'it was noithe custom, now- 
 a-days, to receive ill, except for doing well ; and therefore 
 this must needs be some good man, that my loid so rails 
 at.' 
 
 ' I beseech your lordship,' said Pollexfen, one of Bax- 
 ter's counsel, ' suffer me a word for my client. It is well 
 known to all intelligent men, that he wished as well to 
 the king and royal famil3% as Mr. Love, who lost his head 
 for endeavoring to bring in the son, long before he was 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 287 
 
 restored. And, my lord, Mr. Baxter's loyal and peacea- 
 ble spirit, King Charles would have rewarded with a 
 bishopric, when he came in, if he would have conformed.' 
 
 *Ay, ay,' said the Judge, 'we know that, but what 
 ailed the old blockhead, the unthankful villain, that he 
 would not conform ? He hath been ever since the spring 
 of the faction. I am sure he hath poisoned the world 
 with his linsej'-woolsy doctrine.' Here his rage increased 
 to an amazing degree. He called Baxter, a conceited, 
 stubborn, fanatical dog. ' Hang him,' said he, • this one 
 old fellow hath cast more reproach upon the constitution 
 and discipline of our church, than will be wiped off this 
 hundred years.' 
 
 Mr. Rotherham urged, that if Mr. Baxter's book had 
 sharp reflections upon the church of Ron«e, by name, but 
 spake well of the church of England, it was tc be pre- 
 sumed that the sharp reflections were intended only 
 against the prelates of the church of Rome. Baxter said, 
 * My lord, I have been so moderate with respect to the 
 church of England, that I have incurred the censure of 
 many of the Dissenters, on that account.' 
 
 'Baxter for Bishops!' exclaimed Jeffries, 'that is a 
 merry conceit indeed.' Upon this, Rotherham turned to 
 a place where it is said, 'that great respect is due to those 
 truly called to be bishops among us;' or to that purpose. 
 
 • Ay,^ said Jeffries, ' this is your Presbyterian cant ; 
 truly called to be bishops; that is himself, and such ras- 
 cals, called to be bishops to Kidderminster, and other such 
 places. Bishops set apart by such factions, snivelling 
 Presbyterians as himself: a Kidderminster bishop, he 
 means. According to a saying of a late learned author 
 — and every parish shall maintain a tithe pig metropol- 
 itan.' 
 
288 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 Baxter beginning to speak again, Jeffries reviled him, 
 * Richard, Richard, dost thou think we'll hear thee poison 
 the court. Richard, thou art an old fellow, an old knave; 
 thou hast written books enough to load a cart, every one 
 as full of sedition, I might say treason, as an egg is full 
 of meat. Hadst thou been whipped out of thy writing 
 trade forty jears ago, it had been happy. Thou pretend- 
 est to be a preacher of the gospel of peace, and thou hast 
 one foot in the grave! It is time for thee to begin to 
 think what account thou mtendest to give. But leave 
 thee to thytelf, ar.d I see thou'lt go on as thou hast be- 
 gun ; but, by the grace of God, I'll look after thee. I 
 know thou hast a mighty party, and I sec a great mary 
 of the brotherhood in corners, waiting to see what will 
 become of their mighty Don, and a Doctor of the party, 
 (looking to Dr. Bates,) at your elbow, but, by th ■ grace 
 of Almighty God, I'll crush you all. Come, wh'at do you 
 say for yourself, you old kn;ive; come, spenk ip. What 
 doth he say ? 1 am not afraid of you for all the sniveling 
 calves 3'ou have got about;' alluding to some persons 
 who were in tears about Mr. Baxter. 'Your lordship 
 need not,' said the holy man, ' for I'll not hurt you. But 
 these things will surely be understood one day; what 
 fools, one sort of Protestants are made, to persecute an- 
 other.' And lifting up his eyes to heaven, said, ' I am 
 not concerned to answer such s'uff; but am readj' to pro- 
 duce my writings for the confutation of all th's; and my 
 life and conversation are known to many in this niition." 
 
 Wnat, an outrage upon humanity ! what an impious 
 mockery of justice 1 what an indelible blot upon tie hie- 
 rarchj' of the seventeenth century ! But th^ u:h ' weep- 
 ing mav endure for a night, joy comeih in the morning,' 
 The venerable Baxter, the chamoion of rclit^icus tolera- 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 2^9 
 
 tion, for more than half a century, the undaunted con- 
 fessor, the meek and heroic ' prisoner of the Lord,' was 
 released from his last confinement in 1685, and was fast 
 approaching the close of his long and eventful and pre- 
 eminently useful life. 
 
 But before we come to the closing scene, two or three 
 extracts from his sermons, and a glimpse at the yearnings 
 of his heart over the perishing heathen will doubtless be 
 highly acceptable to the Christian reader. The first is 
 from a discourse delivered in London on " making light of 
 Christ." Such plainness and pungenc}'' would be highly 
 offensive to multitudes in our own times, who profess to 
 believe in all the amazing realities of heaven and hell, as 
 disclosed in the Scriptures. 
 
 •' O sirs, it is no trifles or jesting matters that the Bible 
 speaks of. I must needs profess to you, that when I 
 have the most serious thoughts of these things myself, I 
 am ready to marvel that such amazing matters do not 
 overwhelm the souls of men : that the greatness of the 
 subject doth not so overmatch our understandings and af- 
 fections, as even to drive men beside themselves, but that 
 God hath always somewhat allayed it by the distance ; 
 much more that men should be so blockish as to'make 
 light of them. O Lord, that men did but know what 
 everlasting and everlasting torments are. Would they 
 then hear us as they do ? Would ihey read and think of 
 these things as they do ? I profess I have been ready to 
 wonder when I heard such mighty things delivered, how 
 people can forbear crying out in the congregation ; much 
 more how they can rest till they have gone to their min- 
 isters, and learned what ihey should do to be saved, that 
 this great business might be put out of doubt. Is that 
 a man or a corpse that is not affected with things of this 
 
290 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 moment? that can be readier to sleep, than to tremble 
 when he heareth how he must stand at the bar of God 1 
 Is that a man, or a clod of clay, that can. rise and lie 
 .down without being deeply affected with his everlasting 
 estate? that can follow his worldly business, and make 
 nothing of the great business of salvation or damnation ; 
 and that when he knows it is hard at hand ! Truly, sirs, 
 when I thmk of the weight of the matter, I wonder at 
 the very best of God's saints upon earth, that they are no 
 better, and do no more in so weighty a case. I wonder 
 at those w^hom the world accounteth more holy than 
 needs, and scorns for making too much ado, that they 
 can put off Christ and their souls with so little: that they 
 pour not out their souls in every supplication : that they 
 are not more taken up with God : that their thoughts be 
 not more serious in preparation for their account. 1 won- 
 der that they be not a hundred times more strict in their 
 lives, and more laborious and unwearied in striving for 
 the crown, than they are. And for myself, as I { m 
 ashamed of my dull and careless heart, and of my slow 
 and unprofitable course of life ; so the Lord knows I am 
 ashamed of every sermon I preach. When I think what 
 1 have been speaking of, and who sent me, and how 
 men's salvation or damnation is so much concerned in it, 
 I am ready to tremble, lest men should judge me as a 
 slighter of his truth, and the souls of men, and lest in the 
 best sermon I should be guilty of their blood." 
 
 The next extract is from a sermon on repentance, 
 preached before the English House of Commons at a sol- 
 emn fast, April 30, 1660. 
 
 " Many a time have I admired, that men of reason who 
 are here to-day, and in endless joy or misery to-morrow, 
 should be able to forgel such inexpressible concernments ! 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 291 
 
 Methinks they should easier forget to rise, or to dress 
 themselves, or to eat, or drink, or any thing than forget 
 an endless life, which is so undoubtedly certain, and so 
 nea.r. A man that hath a cause to be heard to-morrow, 
 in which his life or honor is concerned, cannot forget it ; 
 a wretch that is condemned to die to-morrow, cannot for- 
 get it. And yet poor sinners, that are continually uncer- 
 tain to live an hour, and certain speedily to see the ma- 
 jesty of the Lord to their unconcievable terror or joy, as 
 sure as they now live on earth, can forget these things 
 for which they have iheir memory ; and which one would 
 think should drown the matters of this woild, as the re- 
 port of a cannon doth a whisper, or as the sun obscureth 
 the poorest glow-worm. O wonderful stupiditj^ of an un- 
 renewed soul! O wonderful folly and distractedness of 
 the ungodly ! O could you keep your honors here for- 
 ever; could 3'ou ever wear that gay attire, and gratify 
 your flesh with meats, and drinks, and sports, and lusts; 
 could you ever keep youv rule and dignity, or your earth- 
 ly life in any state, you had some little poor excuse for 
 not remembering the eternal things (as a man hath, that 
 preferrcth his candle before the sun,) but when death is 
 near and inexorable, and you are sure to die, as you are 
 sure to live; when every man of you that sittcth in these 
 seats to-(la3', can say, ' I must shortly be in another world, 
 where all the pomp and plensure of this world will be for- 
 gotten, or remembered but as my sin and folly,' one would 
 think it were impossible for any of you to be ungodly, 
 and to remember the trifles, and nothings of the world, 
 while you forget that everlasting all, whose reality, ne- 
 cessity, magnitude, excellency, concernment and dura- 
 tion are such, as should take up all the powers of your 
 souls, and continually command the service and attend- 
 
292 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 ance of jour thoughts against all seekers, and contempti- 
 ble competitors whatever. * 
 
 Perhaps I could have made shift, instead of such seri- 
 ous admonitions, to have wasted this hour in fleishy ora- 
 tory, and neat expressions, and ornaments of reading, and 
 other things, that are the too common matters of ostenta- 
 tion with men that preach God's word in jest, and be- 
 lieve not what they are persuading others to believe. Or 
 if jou think I could not, I am indifferent, as not much 
 affecting the honor of being able to offend the Lord, and 
 wrong vour souls by dallying with holy things. Flat- 
 tery of these things in soul concernment is a selfish vil- 
 lany, that hath but a very short reward, and those that 
 are pleased with it to-day, may curse the flatterer forever. 
 Again, therefore, let me tell you that which I think you 
 will confess, that it is not your greatness, nor your high 
 looks, nor the gallantry of your spirits that scorns to be 
 thus humbled, that shall serve your turn when God shall 
 deal with you, or save your carcasses from rottenness and 
 dust, or your guilty souls from the wrath of the Almighty. 
 Nor is ii your contempt of the threatenings of the Lord, 
 and your stupid neglect, or scorning at the message, that 
 will endure when the sudden and irresistible light shall 
 come in upon you, and convince you, or you shall see and 
 feel, what now you refuse to believe ! Nor is it your out- 
 side, hypocritical religion, mad^ up of mere words, or cer- 
 emonies, and gi\'ing your souls but the leavings of the 
 flesh, and making God an underhng to the world, that 
 will do any more to save your souls, than the picture of a 
 feast to feed your bodies. Nor is it the stiffest conceits 
 that you shall be sa\ed in an unconverted state, or that 
 you are sanctified, when you are not, that will do any 
 more to keep you from damnation, than a conceit that 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 293 
 
 you shall never die, will do to keep you here forever. 
 Gentlemen, though you are all herein health and dignity, 
 and honor to-day, how little a while is it, alas ! how lit- 
 tle, until you shall be every man in heaven or hell ! Un- 
 less you are infidels, you dare not deny it. And it is only 
 Christ and a holy life, that is your way to heaven : and 
 only sin, and the neglect of Christ and holiness, that can 
 undo you. Look, therefore, upon sin, as you should look 
 on that which would cast you into hell, and is daily un- 
 dermining all your hopes. O that this honorable assem- 
 bly could know it in some measure, as it shall be shortly 
 known ! and judge of it as men do, when tiiae is past, 
 and delusions vanished, and all men are awakened from 
 their fleshly dreams, and their naked souls have seen the 
 Lord." 
 
 When was any Legislature ever addrea^d with more 
 plainness, fidelity and affection, than we find in these 
 paragraphs. 
 
 Immediately after the lestoration of Charles II, Bax- 
 ter was appointed one of the chaplains in ordinary, and 
 w£is once called to preach in the royal presence. Not 
 many kings, since Paul made the ears of Agrippa tingle, 
 have had the advantage of hearing such preaching. 
 
 " Will you persuade us that the man is wise, tha: can 
 climb a little higher than his neighbors, that he may have 
 the greater fall ? That is attended in his way to hell, 
 with greater pomp and state than others? That can sin 
 more syllogistically and rhetorically than the vulgar, and 
 more prudently and gravely run into damnation : and can 
 learnedly defend his madness, and prove that he is safe at 
 the brink of hell I Would you persuade us that he is 
 wise, that contradicts the God and rule of wisdom, that 
 parts with heaven for a few merry hours, and hath Dot 
 26 
 
294 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 wit to save his soul?" "Can you forget that death is 
 ready to undress you, and tell you that your spoit and 
 mirth is done, and that now you have had all that the 
 world can do for those that serve it, and take it for their 
 portion ? How quickly can a fever, or the choice of a 
 hundred messengers of death, bereave you of all that earth 
 afforded you, and turn your sweetest pleasure into gall, 
 and turn a lord into a lump of clay ! " " Princes and no- 
 bles live not always. You are not the rulers of the un- 
 movable kingdom; but of a boat, that is in a hasty 
 stream, or a ship under sail, that sheill speed both pilot 
 and passengers to shore. The inexorable leveller is ready 
 at your backs to convince you by irresistible argument, 
 that dust you are, and unto dust you shall return. Heav- 
 en should be as desirable and hell as terrible to you as to 
 others ; no man will fear you after death, much less will 
 Christ be afraid to judge you." 
 
 We must not omit to add, that Richard Baxter had the 
 true primitive missionary spirit, in an age when the com- 
 mand of Jesus, " Go ye into all the world, and preach the 
 gospel to every creature," seems to have been scarcely 
 thought of by the great body of his professed disciples. 
 How his benevolent soul yearned over the perishing hea- 
 then, and with what a holy flame it would have burned, 
 had he lived either in the first, or the seventeenth century, 
 the reader will be enabled to judge, with tolerable correct- 
 ness, from the following extract. 
 
 " There is nothing in the world that lieth so heavy 
 upon my heart, as the thought of the miserable nations of 
 the earth. It is the most astonishing part of all God's 
 providence to me, that he so far forsaketh almost all the 
 world, and confineth his especial favor to so few ; that so 
 small a part of the world hath the profession of Christian- 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 295 
 
 ity, ill comparison of heathens, Mahometans, and other 
 infidels; that among professed Christians there are so few 
 that are saved from gross delusions, and have any compe- 
 tent knowledge; and that among those there are so few 
 that are seriously religious, and who truly set their hearts 
 on heaven. I cannot be affected so much with the ca- 
 lamities of my own relations, or the land of my nativity, 
 as with the case of the Mahometan and heathen na- 
 tions of the earth. No part of my prayers are so deeply 
 serious as that for the conversion of the infidel and un- 
 godly world, that God's name may be sanctified, and his 
 kingdom come, and his will be done on earth as it is in 
 heaven. Nor was I ever before so sensible what a plague 
 the division of languages is, which hindereth our speaking 
 to them for their conversion. Nor what a great sin tyr- 
 anny is, which keepeth out the gospel from most of the 
 nations of the world. Could we bat go among Tartars, 
 Turks, and heathens, and speak their language, I should 
 be but little troubled for the silencing of eighteen hundred 
 ministers at once in England, nor for all the rest that 
 were cast out here, and in Scotland, and Ireland ; there 
 being no employment in the world so desirable in my eyes, 
 as to labor for the winning of such miserable souls ; which 
 maketh me greatly honor Mr. John Eliot, the apostle of 
 the Indians in New England, and whoever else have la- 
 bored in such work." 
 
 But we must hasten to the closing scene of Mr. Bax- 
 ter's long and eventful, and eminently useful life. That 
 he was a man of ardent and elevated piety, appears from 
 his untiring zeal in the service of God, from the deeply 
 evangelical spirit of his doctrinal and practical writings, 
 from the holy breathings of all his experimental and prac- 
 tical works ; and from the solemn, but heavenly serenity 
 
296 RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 of his soul, as he lingered painfull}^ on the shore of eter- 
 nity, and cast his longing eyes towards the distant haven 
 of eternal rest. With the greatest truth and propriety, we 
 think, might he have appropriated to himself his own 
 beautiful description of a Christian's devout meditations, 
 at the conclusion of the " Saint's Rest." 
 
 " As Moses before he died, went up into Mount Nebo, 
 to take a survey of the land of Canaan, so he ascended the 
 mount of contemplation, and by faith survej-ed his heav- 
 enly rest. He looked on the delectable mansions, and 
 said, ' Glorious things are deservedlj^ spoken of thee, thou 
 city of God,' He heard, as it were, the melody of the 
 heavenly choir, and said, ' happy the people that are in 
 such a case, yea, happy is that people whose God is the 
 Lord. He looked upon the glorious inhabitants, and ex- 
 claimed, happy art thou, O Israel.' ' Who is like unto 
 thee, O people saved of the Lord ! ' He looked on the 
 Lord himself, who is their glory, and was ready with the 
 rest to fall down and worship him that liveth forever and 
 ever. He looked on the glorified Savior, and was ready 
 to say amen to that new song, ' Blessing and honor and 
 glory and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, 
 and unto the Lamb.' He looked back on the wilderness 
 of this world, and blessed the believing, patient, despised 
 saints ; he pitied the ignorant, obstinate, miserable world. 
 Like Daniel in his captivity, he daily opened his window 
 towards the Jerusalem that is above, though far out of 
 sight." 
 
 Dr. Calamy, speaking of the last year of Mi*. Baxter's 
 life, says, " he talked in the pulpit with great freedom 
 about another world, like one who had been there, and 
 was come as a sort of express from them to make a report 
 Dr. Bates, who knew him well, and had 
 
RICHARD BAXTER. 297 
 
 long studied his character, remarks, " This excellent saint 
 was the same in his life and death. His last hours were 
 spent in preparing himself and others to appear before 
 God. Never w^as penitent sinner more humble, never 
 was believer more calm, or comfortable. Many times he 
 prayed, 'Ood be merciful to me a sinner;' and blessed be 
 God, that this was left upon record in the gospel, as an 
 effectual prayer." After a slumber, he awoke and said, 
 " 1 shall rest from my labor." When a friend was com- 
 forting him with the remembrance of the good that many 
 had received from his preaching and writings, he said, 
 " I was but a pen in God's hand, and what praise is due 
 to a pen ! " Being often asked by his friends how it was 
 with his-inward man, he replied, I bless God I have a 
 well grounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and 
 great comfort and peace within. He expressed great 
 willingness to die, and during his sickness, when the 
 question was asked, how he did' he answered, '* almost 
 ivellV He expired on the 8th of Dec. 1G91 ; and few 
 men who have gone to their eternal rest, since the days 
 of Paul, could, in the last hour, have more triumphantly 
 adopted the language of that great Apostle, "/ have 
 fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have 
 kept the faith, henceforth there is laid up for me a croioi 
 of righteousness, ivhich the Lord, the righteous judge loill 
 give me at that dayP 
 
I 
 
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