Tywr???"'— Deposited, by Rhetorical Society 1857 wwumv.M EVANGELICAL BIOGRAPHY; OR, AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE LIVES 4- DEATHS THE MOST EMINENT AND EVANGELICAL AUTHORS OR PREACMERS9 BOTH BRITISH AND FOREIGN, IN THE SEVERAL DENOMINATIONS OP PROTESTANTS, FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE REFORMATION TO THE PRESENT TIME. WHEREIN Are collected, from authentic Historians, their most remarkable Actions, Suf ferings, and Writings ; exhibiting tlie Unity of their Faith and Experience in their several Ages, Countries, and Professions; and illustrating the Power of Divine Grace in their holy Living and Dying. BY THE REV. ERASMUS MIDDLETON, Of King's College, Cambridge; Chaplain to the Right Hon. the Countess of Crauferd and Lindsay ; and Rector of Turvej, Bedfordshire. The Faithful are chosen in Christ, Eph. i. 4. — called by grace, Gal. i. 1*. — justified freely by grace, Rom. iii. 24. — holy and beloved, Col. iii. 12. — they live by faith, Gal. iii. II. — obtain a good report through faith, Hes. xi. 39. — die blessed in the Lord, Rev. xiv. 13. — shall appear with him is glory^ Col. iii. 4. A NEW EDITION, ILLUSTRATED WITH FIFTY-ONE PORTRAITS. IN FOUR VOLUMES.— VOL. IV. LONDONs PRINTED FOR W. BAYNES, 54, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1816. INDEX. Page Hopkins 1 Jacorab 3 Bunyan 7 Baxter 16 Flavel 48 Conant 64 Fleming 69 Henry, P. 76 Baily 101 Bates 105 Burkitt 110 Spener 121 Howe 126 Beveridge 144 Doolittle 149 Witsius 156 Tallen ts 170 Trosse 172 Halyburton 188 Henry, M. 197 Shower 214 Allix 221 Taylor 228 Clarke 230 Mather 233 Harvey, S. 240 Evans 243 Sau-rin 247 Ulrick BostonFabricius Hubbard Moth Brainerd Watts Harrison Erskine, E. Erskine, R. Doddridge Edwards Hervey, J. Jones, Gr. Davies WalkerGuyse Jones, T. Pearsall Grimshaw Bostwick WhitefieldGillHitchin Toplady ConderMaddock Conclusion 252 254 258 259261262 264 277 279280282294317 333 341 350 374 380 390394414 418 448 466 474488 491497 VOL. IV. INDEX. AlLIX Page 221 Baily 101 Bates 105 Baxter 16 Beveridge 144 Boston 254 Bostwick 414 Brainerd 262 Bunyan 7 Burkitt 110 Clarke Conant Conder DaviesDoddridgeDoolittle Edwards Erskine, E. Erskine, R. Evans Fabricius FlavelFleming GillGrimshaw Guyse Halyburton Harrison 230 64 488 341282 149 294 279280243 258 48 69 448448 374 188 277 Harvey, S. Henry, M. Henry, P. Hervey, J, HitchinHopkins HoweHubbard Jacomb Jones, Gr. Jones, T. MaddockMather MothPearsall SaurinShowerSpener Tallents Taylor TopladyTrosse Ulrick WalkerWatts Whitefield Witsius Page 240 197 76 317 466 1 126 259 3 333380 491233261 390 247 2 1 121170 228 474 172 252 350264418 156 From, the Original pauuina . BIOGRAPHIA EVANGELICA. EZEKIEL HOPKINS, D.D. BISHOP of DERRY, in IRELAND. EzEKIEL HOPKINS, a learned Bishop, whose* works are in good esteem, was born in 1633* in the pa rish of Crediton, near Exeter, in Devonshire, and was son to the Curate of Sandford, a chapel of ease belong1- ing to Creditdn. In 1649 he became a chorister of Magdalen College, Oxford, usher of the school adjoin ing when bachelor of arts, chaplain of the college when master, and would have been fellow had his county qua lified him. All this time he lived and was educated un der presbyterian and independent discipline ; but, upon the restoration of King Charles II. being a doctrinal Calvinist, and a real professor of the most essential arti cles of the church of England, he found no difficulty in his mind for a full conformity to its outward ritual, when re-established by law; persuaded that more good might be done in the church than out of it, both because there were more opportunities of attempting it, and because there, in consequence of the larger and more mixed multitude, it was most of all wanted. He was first* by the interest of Sir Thomas Viner, made lecturer of the parish of Hack ney near London, where he continued till the act of con formity was published, and might have been chosen" a lecturer in London, but the bishop would not permit it, ' because he was a popular preacher, Mr. Wood says, ' among the fanatics.1 At the Restoration, the men of the church were much changed, but the doctrines of the VOL. IV. B church 2 i HOPKINS. church continued the same. Some fiery Arminians took the lead, and, instead of compromising differences, (as they had then a favourable opportunity to do) they, or too many of them, sought the indulgence of revenge by trampling all dissenters under their feet. It is not to be doubted, but that the great majority of the hundreds who were ejected in 1662, would have gladly conformed by healing measures, both to preserve their maintenance and to enjoy a larger sphere of usefulness. All moderate men (and moderate men are the only wise men) must look back vvith regret upon those times, when, to the great scandal of the protestant religion and of Christianity itself, the ministers of peace became ministers of war, and, instead of embracing and forgiving, and reclaiming, seemed too eager to bite and devour one another. Pudet Itac opprobria nobis. After some considerable time, he was promoted to the parish church of St. Mary Woolnorth, in Lombard Street. But, on account of the plague, he re tired to Exeter, where he was so much approved of and applauded for his excellent manner of preaching, especial ly by Dr. Seth Ward, Bishop of that diocese, (who was himself a true bishop and real friend of the church) that he presented him to the parish of St. Mary Arches in that city. John, Lord Roberts, Baron of Truro, hap pened to hear him preach at this place, and was so much pleased with his abilities, (for he was, as the late Mr. Hervey* styled him, ' a fervent and affectionate' preach er) that, soon after upon his own appointment to be Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, he took him with him in the qua lity of chaplain, and in the same year, viz. 1669, gave him his daughter in marriage, and conferred upon him the treasurership of Waterford, and, in the year follow ing, the deanery of llaphoe. In the spring afterwards, he strongly recommended him to the favour of his succes sor, John, Lord Berkeley of Stratton, who, on the twen ty-seventh of October 1671, promoted him to the see of Raphoe, to which he was consecrated in Christ Church, Dublin, by James, Arehbishop of Armagh, assisted by the Bishops of Clogher, Waterford, and Derry. ' On the eleventh of November 1681, ten years after, he was translated to the bishopric of Derry. In 1688, on account of the troubles in Ireland, he returned to England for safety, and was made minister of the parish of St. Mary, Aldermanbury, or, as others say, of St. Lawrence, Jewry, * Theron and Aspasio, Vol. II. p. 319. J A C O M B. 3 Jewry, where he died on the twenty-second of June 1690, and was buried in the church of St. Mary, Alder- manburv. The see was kept vacant on account of the unsettled state of the kingdom, till the eighth of January following. He was a Prelate greatly esteemed for his humility, modesty, hospitality, and charity; as also for his great learning and excellent preaching ; and was reckoned also no inconsiderable poet. His Works consist of " Two volumes of sermons; an Exposition of the Ten Commandments, printed in 1692, 4to. And an Exposition of the Lord's Prayer, &c. 1692. 4to." THOMAS JACOMB> D.D. 1HOMAS JACOMB was born near Melton Mow bray, in Leicestershire, in the year 1622. After he had been trained up in grammar learning at the country schools, he was sent to Magdalen Hall, Oxford, of which. Dr. Wilkinson, the elder, was then principal. When he had taken the degree of bachelor of arts, he removed to Cambridge, and was of Emanuel College. He was for some time fellow of Trinity, and much esteemed in that flourishing society. He came to London in 1647, and was soon after minister of Ludgate parish, where his ministry was both acceptable and useful till he was turned out in 1662. He was a nonconformist upon moderate principles ; much rather desiring to have been compre hended in the national church, than to have separated from it. He met with some trouble after his ejectment, but being received into the family of the Countess Dowager of Exeter, daughter of the Earl of Bridge- water, he was covered from his enemies. Her respect for the Doctor was peculiar, and the favours conferred upon him extraordinary, for which he made .the best return, by his constant care to promote religion in her family. He was a servant of Christ in the most peculiar and sacred relation, and was true to his title both in his doc trine and in his life. Effectual grace wrought so power fully 4 J A C O M B. fully upon his soul, that he became an excellent preachef of the gospel, and had a happy art of conveying saving truths into the minds and hearts of men. He did not entertain his hearers with mere curiosities, but with spi ritual food, faithfully dispensing the bread of life, whose vital sweetness and nourishing virtue is by the Holy Spirit rendered both productive and preservative of the life of souls. He preached Christ crucified, our only wisdom and righteousness, sanctification, and redemp tion. His great design was to convince sinners of their abso lute want of Christ* that with flaming affections they might be led to him by his convincing Spirit, and from his fulness receive divine grace. This is to water the tree at the root, whereby it becomes both flourishing and fruitful ; whereas only laying down moral rules for the exercise of virtue, too frequently ends in words only* without any real effect in the life and conversation. In short, his sermons were clear, solid, and affectionate. His words came from his soul, and from Vvarm affec tions, and they entered into the breasts of his hearers : Of this many serious and judicious persons were wit nesses, who long attended upon his ministry with profit and delights His constant diligence in the service of Christ was be coming his zeal for the glory of his master, and his love to the souls of men. He preached thrice a-week while he had opportunity and strength, esteeming his labour in his sacred office both his highest honour and his pleasure." At the first appearance of an ulcer in his mouth, which he was told to be cancerous, he was observed to be not more concerned thereat, than as it was likely to hinder his de lightful work of preaching ; and when he enjoyed ease, and after wasting sickness was restored to some degree of strength, he joyfully returned to his duty. Nay, when his pains were tolerable, preaching was his best anti dote when others failed ; and after his preaching, the reflection upon the divine goodness, that had given him strength for the discharge of the service, was a great re lief of his pains. ^ Bis sermons, which, we have observed, were clear so lid and affectionate, were printed in a fair and lively cha racter in his conversation. He was an example to believers* in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity! He was of a stayed mind, temperate passions, and mode rate in counsels. In managing affairs of moment, he was not J A C 0 M B. £ not vehement and confident, not imposing and over bearing, but receptive of advice, and yielding to reason. His compassionate charity and beneficence were very conspicuous amongst his other graces. His heart was given to God, and his relieving hand was open to the living images of God, whose pressing wants he felt with tender affections, and he was greatly instru mental in supplying them. As his life adprned the gos pel, so also his death was exemplary to others, and gracious and comfortable to himself. The words of men leaving the world make usually the deepest impressions, being spoken most feelingly and truly, and with the least affectation. Death reveals the secrets of men's hearts : And the testimonies of dying saints, how gra cious a Master they have served, and how sweet his service has been to their souls, have a mighty influence upon those about them. In his last sickness, which was long and painful, his first work was, to yield himself with resigned submission to the will of God. When a dear friend of his first visited him, he said, " I am in the use of means ; but " I think my appointed time is come, that I must die : " If my life might be serviceable to convert or build " up one soul, I should be content to live ; but if " God hath no work for me to do, here I am, let " him do with me as he pleaseth : But to be with " Christ is best of all." Another time he told the same person, " That now it was visible it was a determined " case : The Lord would not hear the prayer, to bless " the means used for his recovery," therefore desired his friends to be willing to resign him to Gob, say ing, " It will not be long before we meet in heaven, " never to part more, and there we shall be perfectly " happy : There neither your doubts and fears, nor " my pains and sorrows, shall follow us, nor our " sins, which is best of all."' After a long continuance in his languishing condition, without any sensible alte ration, being asked how he did, he replied, " I lie here, " but get no ground for heaven or earth :" Upon which one said, < Yes, in your preparations for heaven.' " O yes, said he, there I sensibly get ground, I bless " God." An humble submission to the divine plea sure was the habitual frame of his soul. Whether the hope of his recovery were raised or sunk, he was con tent in every dispensation of providence, His 6 J A C O M B. His patience under sharp and continuing pains was ad mirable. The most difficult part of a Christian's duty, the sublimest degree of holiness upon earth, is to bear tor menting pains with a meek and quiet spirit. Then faith is made perfect in works ; and this was eminently verified in his long trial. His pains were very severe, proceeding from a cancerous humour that spread itself in his joints, and preyed upon the tenderest membranes, the most sen sible parts, yet his patience was invincible. How many restless nights did he pass through without the least mur muring or reluctancy of spirit ! He patiently suffered veiy grievous things through -Christ that strengthened him ; and in his most afflicted condition was thankful. But neither disease, nor even death itself, could disturb the blessed composure of his soul, which was kept by the peace of God that passes all understanding. Such was the divine mercy, he had no anxiety about his future state, but a comfortable assurance of the Lord's favour, and his title to the eternal inheritance. He had a substantial double joy in the reflection upcn his life spent in the faithful service of Christ, and the pro spect of a blessed eternity ready' to receive him. This made him long to be above. He said with some'regret, " Death flies from me; I make no haste to my Father's " house." But the wise and gracious God, who is rich in mercy, having tried his faithful servant, at length gave him the crown of life, which he hath promised to those 'that love him, and live and die in the Lord. His body, that poor relict of frailty, is committed in trust to the grave. His soul sees the face of God in righteousness, and is satisfied with his likeness. He died of a cancerous humour, in the Countess of Exeter's house, on the twenty-seventh of March 1687, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, leaving behind him an incomparable library of the most valuable books, in all parts of learning ; which was afterwards sold by auction for thirteen hundred pounds. His funeral sermon was preached by Dr. Bates, and dedicated to the above pious Lady Exeter. His Works are, " A Commentary on the first four Verses of the viiith chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, 4to. A Treatise of Holy Dedication, both personal and domestic, written after the fire of London, and recom mended to the citizens, after their return to their rebuilt habitations, and other tracts. A Funeral Sermon for Mr, M, Martin.— Another for Mr. Vines, with an account of his B U N Y A N. 7 his life. — Another for Mr. Case, with a narrative of his life and death. The life and death of Mr. William Whit- aker, son of the famous Mr. Jer. Whitaker. Two Ser mons in the ' Morning Exercise.' A Sermon at St. Paul's, Oct. 26, 1656. A Sermon before the Lord Mayor, &c. at the SpittaL' JOHN BUNYAN. JOHN BUNYAN, Author of the justly admired allegory of the " Pilgrim's Progress," was born at Elstow, near Bedford, in the year 1628. His parents, though very mean, took care to give him that learning which was suitable to their condition, bringing him up to read and write ; he quickly forgot both, abandoning him self to all manner of wickedness, but not without frequent checks of conscience. He was often affrighted with dreams, and terrified with visions in the night ; and twice narrowly escaped drowning. Being a soldier in the parlia ment army, at the siege of Leicester, in 1645, he was drawn out to stand sentinel; but another soldier of his company desired to take his place, to which he agreed, and thereby probably escaped being shot through the head by a musket-ball, which took off his comrade. About this time he married, having no other portion with his wife than the two following books, left by her late father, ' The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven ;" and « The f Practice of Piety.' Bunyan often reading in these books, and his wife frequently telling him of her father's religious holy life, and how he reproved vice and immorality both in .his own house and among his neighbours, begat in him some desires to reform his vicious course of life ; and accord ingly he went to church twice a-day, with a great deal of seeming devotion, but still was not able to forsake his sins. One day being at play with his companions, he says, " A voice suddenly darted from heaven into my soul, say- " ing, Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have " thy sins and go to hell?" This put him into such a con sternation, that he immediately left his sport, and looking up to heaven, thought he saw, with the eyes of his und«v standing, the Lord Jesus looking down upon him, as highly 8 BUNYAN. highly displeased with him, and threatening him with some grievous punishment for his ungodly practices. At another time, whilst he was throwing out oaths, he was severely reproved by a woman, who was herself a notorious sinner, and who told him * he was the ugliest fellow for s swearing that ever she heard in all her life ; that he was ' able to spoil all the youth of the town, if they came but ' into his company.' This reproof, coming from a woman whom he knew to be very wicked, filled him with secret shame, and wrought more with him than many that had been given him before by those that were sober and godly, and made him, from that time, very much refrain from it. A little time after this, he fell into company with a poor man that made a profession of religion, whose conversation of religion and of the Scriptures so affected Mr. Bunyan, that he began to read the Bible, and with some degree of pleasure, especially the historical part ; for as yet he was ignorant both of the corruption and depravity of his na ture, and of the want and worth of Jesus Christ. This however produced an outward reformation in his life and conversation, and he set the commandments before him as his guide to heaven; which, while he thought he kept, he had comfort, but when he broke any of them, his conscience was filled with guilt and horror : neverthe less, by a partial repentance, and promises to God of fu ture amendment, he quieted himself, thinking then (to use his own words) that he pleased God '.'. as well as any man "_ in England." In this state he continued about a year, his neighbours all wondering at his reformation, and" they who formerly spoke ill of him? now began to praise and commend him, both to his face and behind his back ; which as he knew nothing yet of Christ, nor the nature of grace, nor faith, nor. hope, only filled him with pride and hypocrisy. " I was all this while (says he) igno- " rant of Jesus Christ, and going about to establish my " own righteousness, and had perished therein, had not " God, iii mercy, shewed me more of my state by na- " ture." J J His father brought him up to his own business, which was that of a tinker : And going one day into Bedford to seek work, he heard three or four poor women sitting to gether, conversing of the things of God. He drew near to them, to hear what they said, for by this time he was a great talker, particularly about himself, in matters of religion ; " but (says he) I heard but understood not, for " they were far above my reach." Their talk was about BUNYAN. 9 about the new birth, the work of God in their hearts, how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature, and how God had visited their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus, and with what Scripture promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and supported against the temptations of the devil : They further spoke of the de vices of Satan, how they had been borne up under his as saults, and delivered out of their afflictions ; and also o» the deceitfulness, wickedness, and unbelief of their hearts; loathing and abhorring themselves and their own righte ousness as filthy and insufficient to do them any good. " And methought (says he, using an expression of the " most beautiful simplicity) they spake as though you did " make them speak;" and all " with such pleasantness of " Scripture language, and such appearance of grace, that ?' they seemed to me as if they had found a new world, and " were people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned " among the nations. Numb, xxiii. 9 " Upon this his heart misgave him, and he doubted much of the goodness of his religious state, being conscious that in all his thoughts about religion and salvation, the new birth never entered into his mind, and that he was an entire stranger to the treachery of his own wicked heart, the nature of Satan's temptations, and how they were to be resisted, and of the comfort of God's gracious promises in the gospel. How ever, the deep and lasting impressions made on his mind by the conversation of these good people, led him fre quently to discourse with them on the above important subjects, by which means his heart was so far changed, that he cordially embraced the truth on conviction of Scripture authority, and meditated therein continually with great delight: Yea, his whole soul became so fixed on eter nity, and the things of the kingdom of God, that neither pleasures nor profits, persuasions nor threats, could move him from his stedfastness. " Although I may speak it " with shame, yet (says he) it is a certain truth, that it " would have been as difficult for me to have taken my " mind from heaven to earth, as I have found it often " since to get it again from earth to heaven." After this season of illumination and rejoicing, he en dured many severe conflicts ; without were fightings, and within were fears. One of the first trials of his faith and. constancy was that of some professors holding the truth in unrighteousness, viz. the Ranters, whose gospel-liberty was mere licentiousness : But he,, being designed of God for better things, was kept from these enormities and the vile 10 BUNYAN. vile delusions of this truly antinomian sect, though in the prime and vigour of his life. But the Bible was particu larly precious to him in those days, and he read and me ditated in it with more than ordinary delight and pleasure, praying earnestly that he might not be left to lean to his own understanding, but might know the truth, and be kept in the way to life and glory. After many severe and uncommon spiritual conflicts, which he relates at large in his treatise, entitled " Grace " abounding, &c." he was led, at length, to open his mind to some religious people in Bedford, and particularly to those whose discourse he had overheard at his first setting out. They made his case known to Mr. Gifford, their minister, who, after conversing with him and hoping him to be sincere, invited him to attend the society meetings held at his own house. ' Tf ere he heard of the Lord's deal ings with others, and the instructions and encouragement Mr. Gifford gave them from time to time, by which he received further conviction, and saw more and more of the inward vanity, deceitfulness, and wretchedness of his own heart : Insomuch that he thought he grew worse and worse, and was farther frdm conversion than ever, and was exceedingly discouraged. Yet sometimes this Scrip ture afforded him comfort : / girded thee, though thou hast not known me, Isa. xlv. 5. He had such a view of his original and inward pollution, that he was more loathsome in his own eyes than a toad, and thought he was so in the sight of God. At this sight of his vileness, he was al most driven to despair, being ready to conclude, that such a condition was inconsistent with a state of grace, and that he was forsaken of God, and given up to the de vil and a reprobate mind. In this state he continued for several years. He remarks, that while he was thus exercised with the workings of corruptions and the fear of damnation, he was surprised at two things ; the one was, to see old people hunting after the things of this life, as if they should live here always; the other was, to find professors distressed and cast down when they met with outward losses, as of a husband, wife, child, &c. &c. " What seeking (says he) " after carnal things by some, and what grief in others for " the loss of them; whereas if I knew but that my soul " was in a good condition, how rich should I esteem my- " self, though blessed but with bread and water : I should " reckon these but small afflictions and should bear them *' as little burdens: But a wounded spirit who can bear !" In BUNYAN. 11 In this state he remained a great while, lamenting that God had made him a man, and not a beast or bird or fish, whose condition he coveted, because they were not, like himself, obnoxious to the wrath of God, and to be sent to hell when they died. But when Gonls time to comfort him was come, he providentially heard a sermon from Sol. Song, iv. 1. Behold thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair. The minister made these two words, my love, the subject of his sermon; from which, after he had a lit tle opened his text, he discoursed on the following heads: ' 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, though hated of the world. 4. Christ's ' love, when under temptation and desertion. 5. Christ's ' love, from first to last.' That which more particularly suited his case was the fourth head ; and, in the applica tion of which, in these words, he found his heart filled with hope and comfort, and belief that his sins would now be forgiven. ' If it be so (said the preacher) that the saved ' soul is in Christ's love when under temptation and deser- ' tion, then, poor tempted soul, when thou art assaulted ' and afflicted with temptations, and the hidings of thy Sa- ' viour's face, yet think on these two words, my love still.' In further meditating on this discourse, he experienced such a display of God's mercy and love, that he could scarce contain himself; he thought he could have told of God's goodness to the very birds of the air, if they could have understood him, saying, " Surely I shall not forget this forty years hence ; but, alas, (adds he) within less than forty days I began to question all again." However he was enabled to go on, believing that it was, a true ma nifestation of grace unto his soul; notwithstanding at times he had lost much of the life and savour of it. a As Mr. Bunyan was designed in a very eminent degree to speak to others in cases of conscience, he was led on in such a manner, as to be richly furnished from his own experience to encourage professors of all descriptions in the way of salvation ; and he has explained at large, in his treatise before-mentioned*- the grounds he had to be lieve, that God had appointed him to testify of his grace to others. Accordingly, after some private trials, he ventured openly to preach the gospel, in which (he says) he was attended with seals and success far beyond his ex pectation. After he had publicly preached for five or six years be fore the Restoration, on the twelfth of November 1660, he 1£ BUNYAN. he was apprehended by one Justice Wingate, at or near Harlington, in Bedfdrdshire, and committed to prison, where were above sixty dissenters. Here, with only two books-r-the Bible and the book of martyrs, he employed his time for twelve years and a half in preaching to, and praying with his fellow-prisoners, in writing several of his works, and in making tagged laces for the support of him self and his family. Indeed, his wife (whom he had mar ried about two years before, having buried his former) made every effort to procure his release both at London and at Bedford assizes, but in vain. In the last year of his imprisonment, upon the death of their former pastor, the baptist congregation at Bedford, to whom he was joined, unanimously chose him for their pastor, Dec. 12, 1671. Bishop Burlow of Lincoln, procured his enlarge ment; after which he travelled into various parts of Eng land to visit and confirm his brethren ; and this procured him the title of Bishop Bunyan. In the reign of James the II. upon the famous declaration for liberty of con science, Mr. Buffyan, by the voluntary contributions of his friends, built a public meeting-house at Bedford, and preached constantly to large congregations. He likewise frequently came to London and preached among the non conformists there: And, it is said, the learned Dr. John Owen was often one of his hearers. He died at his lodgings on Snow Hill, London, of a fever, contracted by a journey to Reading in very bad weather, where he had been to make up a dispute be tween a young gentleman and his father. This was on the thirty-first of August 1688, in the sixtieth year of his age. His body was interred in Bunhill Fields. He had, by his first wife, four children, one of which, whom he tenderly loved, was blind. His second wife survived him but four years, dying in 1692. He appeared in countenance (says the continuator of his life) to be of a stern and rough temper, but in his con versation he was mild and affable; not given to loquacity, or much discourse in company, unless some urgent occa sion required it ; observing never to boast of himself or his parts, but rather seem low in his own eyes, and submit himself to the judgment of others; abhorring lying and swearing; being just in all that lay in his power to his word; not seeming to revenge injuries, loving to re concile differences, and making friendship with all. He had a sharp quick eye ; accomplished with an excellent discerning of persons, being of good judgment, and quick wit. BUNYAN. VS wit. As for his person, he was tall of stature, strong- boned, though not corpulent ; ¦ somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes ; wearing his hair on his upper lip, after the old British fashion ; his hair reddish, but, in his latter days, time had sprinkled it with grey ; his nose well set, but not declining or bending, and his mouth • moderately large ; his forehead something high, and his habit always plain and modest. He was certainly a man of a great and vigorous genius, which, had it been properly cultivated, might have raised him to a very conspicuous eminence in the literary world. 'Tis wonderful, under so many disadvantages and depressions, that it could soar so high as it did : And it is one extraordinary proof, among many, that though the grace of God doth not impart new natural powers, yet, in super-addition to it's own proper effects, it usually gives new energy to those powers, and draws them on to attain ments, which before could not have been expected or con ceived. Mr. Granger, (author of the Biographical History of England,) says of him* that ' when he arrived at the sixtieth year of his age, which was the period of his life, he had written books equal to the number of his years : But as many of these are on similar subjects, they are very much alike. His master-piece is his Pilgrim's Progress, one of the most popular, and* I may add, one of the most ingenious books in the English language.' The same author also observes, that ' Biinyan, who has been men tioned among the least and lowest of our writers, and even ridiculed as a driveller by those who have never read him, deserves a much higher rank than is commonly imagined. His Pilgrim's Progress gives us a clear and distinct idea of Calvinistical divinity. The allegory is admirably carried on, and the characters justly drawn, and uniformly sup ported. The Author's original and poetic genius shines through the coarseness and vulgarity of his language, and intimates, that, if he had been a master of numbers, he might have composed a poem worthy of Spenser himself. As this opinion may be deemed paradoxical, I shall venture to name two persons of eminence of the same sentiments; one, the late Mr. Merrick, of Reading ; the other, Dr: Roberts, now Fellow of Eton College.' Mr. Granger ob serves in a note, that ' Mr. Merrick has been heard to say* in conversation, that Bunyan's invention was like that of Homer.' Another person well remembers an observa tion of the same ' Mr. Merrick to himself,' upon his having been presented by a noble lady with a new edition of 14 BUNYAN. of the Pilgrim ; ' That it was a complete poem, and a ' very excellent and ingenious poem, with a religious ten- ' dency, which could be said but of few poems.' To which may be added, the well-known remarks of a polite author, that ' Bunyan's Pilgrim was a Christian ; but Ba- ' trick's only a Pedlar.' A new edition of Mr. Bunyan's Works is now pub lishing by Alexander Hogg, Paternoster Row, with ele gant copper-plates, more complete than any former one, and afforded by the reverend Mr. Symonds of Bed ford; the following are the titles: " I. Grace abounding to the Chief of Sinners, in a faithful account of the life of Mr. John Bunyan. II. A Confession of his Faith, and Reason of his Practice, &c. III. Differences in Judg ment about Water-baptism, no Bar to Communion, &c. IV. Peaceable Principles and true, &c. V. The Doctrine of the Law and Grace unfolded; or, a Discourse touching the Law and Gospel. VI. The Pilgrim's Progress: Part 1st Jand 2d. VII. The Jerusalem Sinner saved, &c. VIII. The Heavenly Footman ; or, a Description of the Man that gets to Heaven, &c. IX. Solomon's Temple spiri tualized, &c. X. The acceptable Sacrifice ; or, the Ex cellency of a broken Heart. XI. Sighs from Hell ; or, the Groans of a damned Soul. XII. Come and welcome to Jesus Christ ; a Discourse on John vi. 37. XIII. A Discourse upon the Pharisee and Publican, &c. XIV. Of Justification by an imputed Righteousness ; or, No Way to Heaven but by Jesus Christ. XV. Paul's Departure and Crown ; or, an Exposition upon 2 Tim. iv. 6, 7, 8. XVI. Of the Trinity and a Christian. XVII. Of the Law and Christian. XVIII. Israel's Hope encouraged ; or, what Hope is, and how distinguished from Faith, &c. XIX. The Life and Death of Mr. Badman ; this is in the form of a dialogue between Mr. Wiseman and Mr. Attentive. XX. The Barren Fig-tree ; or, the Doom and Downfall of the fruitless Professor. XXI. An Ex hortation to Peace and Unity. XXII. One Thing is needful; or, serious Meditations upon the four last Things, Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. XXIII. The Holy War, made by Shaddai upon Diobolus, for the re gaining the Metropolis of the World ; or, the losing and taking again of the Town of Mansoul. XXIV. The De sire of the Righteous granted; or, a Discourse of the right eous Man's Desires. XXV. The Saint's Privilege and Profit.^ XXVI. Christ, a complete Saviour; or, the In tercession of Christ, and who are privileged in it. XXVII. The BUNYAN. 15 The Saint's Knowledge of Christ's love ; or, the unsearch able Riches of Christ. XXVIII. A Discourse of the House of the Forest of Lebanon. XXIX. Of Antichrist and his Ruin; and of the slaying the Witnesses. XXX. Saved by Grace ; or, a Discourse of the Grace of God. XXXI. Christian Behaviour, being the Fruits of true Christianity. XXXII. A Discourse touching Prayer. XXXIII. The strait Gate ; or, the great Difficulty of going to Heaven. XXXIV. Some Gospel-Truths opened, according to the Scriptures. XXXV. A Vindication of Gospel-Truths opened. XXXVI. Light for them that sit in Darkness; or, a Discourse of Jesus Christ, &c. XXXVII. In struction for the Ignorant, &c. XXXVIII. The holy , City ;. or, the New Jerusalem. XXXIX. The Resur rection of the Dead .and eternal Judgment. XL. A Cau tion to stir up to watch against Sin. XL1. An Exposition on the ten first Chapters of Genesis, and part of the ele venth. XLII. The Work of Jesus Christ as an Advocate, &c. XLIII. Seasonable Counsel ; or, Advice to Suffer ers. XLIV. Divine Emblems. XLV. Meditations on Seventy-four Things. XLVI. A Christian Dialogue. XLVII. A Pocket Concordance. XLVIII. An Ac count of the Author's Imprisonment, written by himself. XLIX. A Discourse of Election and Reprobation. L. A Defence of the Doctrine of Justification against Bishop Fowler, 1671. LI. A Treatise of the Fear of God. LII. The Greatness of the Soul and the Unspeakableness of its loss: Preached at Pinnershall, 1683. LIU. Ad vice to Sufferers, 1684. (Besides XLIII. the Seasonable Counsel, &c.) LIV. A holy Life the Beauty of Chris tianity, 1684. LV. The First-Day Sabbath, 1685. LVI. A Discourse of the Nature, Building, and Govern ment of the House of God, 1688. LVII. The Water of Life grounded upon Rev. xxii. 1. printed 1688. LVIIL Mr. Bunyan's last Sermon, July 168S. LIX. Ebal and Gerizim ; or, the Blessing and the Curse. LX. Prison Meditations, directed to the Hearts of suffering Saints and reigning Sinners." The third part of the Pilgrim's Progress is not Mr. Bunyan's; neither is that piece, printed with his name to it about ninety years ago, entitled, " Heart's Ease in " Heart's Trouble." His Pilgrim, which is his master-piece, hath passed above fifty editions, and been translated into various languages. It hath been remarked, that he died at sixty years of age, and left sixty books or tracts of his own composition behind him. 16 BAXTER, RICHARD BAXTER. J. HIS eminently useful and pious. Divine was borri at Rowton, near High-Ercal, in Shropshire, on the twelfth of November 1615, in the house of his grandfather by the mother, Richard Adeney. His father, also named . Richard Baxter, had a small freehold estate at Eaton-Cori- stantine, about five miles from Shrewsbury; which, by his own indiscretion when yoiing and by that of his fa ther, was much impaired, and occasioned many difficulties to him, before, in the course of frugality and prudence, he could free it from incumbrances. He spent the infancy of his life at his grandfather's, and, even then, is said to have given strong indica tions of that piety and purity which appeared in his subsequent life and conversation. In 1625 he was taken! from his grandfather's house where he had hitherto lived," and brought home to his father's at Eaton-Constantine, the village above-mentioned, where he passed the remain der of his Childhood. He was far from being happy in respect to Ins schoolmasters, who were men no way dis tinguished either for learning or morals, and missed the ad vantages of an academical education, through a proposal made to his parents of placing him with Mr. Richard Wick- stead, chaplain to the council at Ludlow. The only advan tage he reaped there was the use of an excellent library, which by his own great application proved of infinite ser vice to him. In this situation he remained about a year and half, and then returned to his father's. At the request of the Lord Newport he went thence to Wroxiter, where he taught in the free-school for six months, while his old school-master Mr. John Owen lay in a languishing condition. In 1633, Mr. Wickstead prevailed on him to wave the studies in which he was then engaged, and to think of making his fortune at court. He accord ingly came up to Whitehall with a recommendation to Sir Henry Herbert, then master of the revels, by whom he was very kindly received. But after a month's stay, discovering no charms in this sort of life, and having besides WF%if^ Trom the Original lYettu-c. At Hie Xibrarv, Bed Ov/j-Jtrctf. BAXTER. 17 besides a very strong propensity to undertake the minis terial function, he returned to his father's, and resumed his studies with fresh vigour, till Mr. Richard Foley of Stourbridge fixed him as master of the free-school at Dudley, with an usher under him. In the time he taught school there, he read several practical treatises, whereby he was brought to a due and deep sense of religion, his progress therein being not a little quickened by his great bodily weakness and ill state of health, which inclined him to think he should scarce survive above a year. We are told by Dr. Calamy, that, from the age of twenty-one to twenty-three, he lived constantly as it were in the sha dow of death ; and, finding his own soul under serious apprehensions of the matters of another world, he was very desirous to communicate those apprehensions to such ignorant, careless, presumptuous sinners, as the world abounds with. Although therefore he had his discourage ments, through h'is sense of the greatness and awfulness of the work of the ministry, and his fear of exposing him self to the censure of many, on the account of his want ing academical education, honours, and dignities; yet, ex pecting to be so quickly in another world, the great con cernments of miserable souls prevailed with him to engage in it ; and finding in himself a thirsty desire of men's con version and salvation, and a competent persuading faculty of expression, which fervent affections might help to ac tuate, he concluded, that if but one or two souls might by his means be won to God, it would easily recom- . pense any treatment he might meet with in the world. However, having still an earnest desire to the ministry, he in 1638 addressed himself to Dr. Thornborough, Bishop of Winchester, for holy orders, which after examination he re ceived, having at that time no scruples of conscience which hindered him from conforming to the church of England. We have a very distinct detail of the means by which he first came to alter his opinions in these matters; and it will be very proper to take notice of them here* because they will serve. to let the reader into the character of the man. Being settled at Dudley, he fell into the acquaintance of se veral nonconformists* whom, though he judged severe and splenetic, yet he found to be both godly and honest men. They supplied him with several writings on their own side* and amongst the rest, with Ames's ' Fresh Suit against Ce remonies,' which he read over very distinctly, comparing it with Dr. Burgess's ' Rejoynder.' And, upon the whole, he at that time came to these conclusions; Kneeling he VOL. IV. C. thought 18 BAXTER. thought lawful, and all mere circumstances determined by the magistrate, which God in nature or Scripture hath determined on, only in the general. The surplice he more doubted of, but was inclined to think it lawful: And though he intended to forbear it till under necessity, yet he could not see how he could have justified the forsaking his ministry merely on that account, though he never actu ally wore it. About the ring in marriage he had no scruple. The cross in baptism he thought Dr. Ames had. proved unlawful ; and though be was not without some doubting in the point, yet because he most inclined to judge it unlawful, he never once used it. A form of prayer and liturgy he judged to be lawful, and in some cases lawfully imposed. The old English liturgy in parti cular, he judged to have much disorder and defectiveness in it, but nothing which should make the use of it in the ordinary public worship to be unlawful to them whp could not do better. He sought for discipline in the church, and saw the sad effects of its neglect ; but he was not then so persuaded as afterwards, that the very frame of diocesan prelacy excluded it, but thought it had been chargeable only on the personal neglects of the Bishops. Subscrip tion he began to think unlawful, and repented his rashness in yielding to it so hastily. For though he could use the common prayer, and was not yet against diocesans, yet to subscribe ex animo, that there was nothing in the three books contrary to the word of God, was that whieh he durst not do, had it been to be done again. So that sub scription, and the cross in baptism, and the promiscuous giving the Lord's Supper to all comers, though ever so unqualified, if they were not excommunicated by a Bishop or Chancellor who knows nothing of them, were the only things in which he as yet, in his judgment, inclined to nonconformity : And yet, even as to these things, he kept his thoughts to himself. He continued to argue with the nonconformists about the points they differed in. and par ticularly kneeling at the sacrament ; about which he ma naged a dispute with some of them in writing, till they did not" think fit to pursue it any farther : He freely re proved them for the bitterness of their language against the Bishops and their adherents, and exhorted them to endeavour for patience and charity, but found their spirits so exasperated by the hard measure they had met with that they were deaf to his admonitions. Being settled at Dudley, he preached frequently in that town, and in the neighbouring villages, with the approbation of all his hearers BAXTER. 19 hearers. In three quarters of a year he was removed to Bridgenorth, where heofficiatedas assistant to Mr. William Madstard, then minister of that place, who treated him with great kindness and respect, and did not put him upon many things which he then began to scruple doing. When the el catera oath came to be imposed, Mr Baxter ap plied himself to study the case of episcopacy, and it fared with him as with some others, the thing which was in tended to fix them to the hierarchy, drove them into a*lis- like of it. In order to have a just idea of this matter, it is necessary to transcribe this famous oath at large; whence it will appear why some very honest men scrupled it, and why some as honest men took it without scrapie. It runs thus : ' I A. B. do swear, that I do approve thfe ' doctrine and discipline, or government established in ' the church of England, as containing all things neces- ' sary to salvation ; And that I will not endeavour by my- ' self or any other, directly or indirectly, to bring in any ' popish doctrine, contrary to that which is so established; ' nor will I ever give my consent to alter the government ' of the church, by Archbishops, Bishops, Deans, and ' Archdeacons, &c. as it stands now established, and as ' by right it ought to stand, nor yet ever to subject it to ' the Usurpation and superstitions of the see of Rome. ' And all these things I do plainly and sincerely acknow- * ledge and swear, according to the plain and common * sense and understanding of the same words, without any ' equivocation or mental evasion, or secret reservation ' whatsoever And this I do heartily, willingly and truly, ' upon the faith of a- Christian. So help me God, in ' Jesus Christ.' Men of tender consciences thought it hard to swear to the continuance of a church government, which many of them disliked ; and yet these men for the church's quiet would willingly have concealed their thoughts, had not this oath, imposed under the penalty of expulsion* compelled them to speak. Others complained of the et ceetera, which, they said, contained they knew not what, and might be extended to they knew not whom* but in all probability, to the officers of ecclesiastical courts ; and to swear to them they thought not only a little extraordinary, but very far from being lawful. Mr. Baxter seems to have understood the oath to be a direct declaration in favour of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of pre lates as then established, which, though it might be sub mitted to with little, he apprehended could not be sworn to ZQ BAXTER. to without much, consideration. This put him upon stu dying the best books he could meet with on this subject ; the consequence of which was, that he utterly disliked the oath, a thing which fell out to many others besides him, who, but for this accident, had never disturbed themselves about so knotty a question. In the year 1640 he was invited, to Kidderminster by the bailiff and feoffees, to preach there for an allowance of sixty pounds a-year, which he accepted ; and applied himself with such dili gence to his sacred calling, as had a very great effect, in a short time, upon a very dissolute people. He continued there about two years before the civil war broke out, and fourteen ' afterwards, with some interruption. He sided with the parliament, and recommended the protestation they directed to be taken, to the people. This exposed him to some inconveniences, which obliged him to retire to Gloucester, but he was soon invited back to Kidder minster, whither he returned. His stay there was not long, but beginning to consider with himself where he might remain in safety, he fixed upon Coventry, and ac cordingly went thither. There he lived peaceably and comfortably, preached once every Lord's day to the garrison, and once to the town's people, for which he took nothing but his diet. After Naseby fight, when all things seemed to favour the parliament, he, by ad vice of the ministers at Coventry, became chaplain to Colonel Whalley's regiment, and in this quality he was present at several sieges, but never in any engagement, so that there was not the least grounds for that scan dalous story, invented and trumpeted about by his ene mies, viz. that he killed a man in cold blood, and robbed him of a medal. He took all imaginable pains to hinder the progress of the sectaries, and to keep men firm in just notions of religion and government, never deviating from what he judged in his conscience to be right, for the sake of making court to any, or from baser motives of fear. But he was separated from the army in the beginning of the year 1657, in a very critical juncture, just when they fell off from the parliament, Mr. Baxter being at that time seized with a bleeding at the nose, in so violent a manner, that he lost the quantity of a gallon at once, which obliged him to retire to Sir Thomas Rouse's, where he continued for a long time in a very languishing state of health, which hindered him from doing that ser vice to his country, that otherwise, from a man of his principles and moderation, might have been expected. He BAXTER. SI He afterwards returned to Kidderminster, and resumed the work of his ministry. He hindered, as far as it was in his power, the taking of the covenant, he preached and epoke publicly against the engagement, and therefore it is veiy unjust to brand him, as some have done, as a trum peter of rebellion * When the army was marching to oppose King Charles II. at the head of the Scots, Mr. Baxter took pains, both by speaking and writing, to re mind the soldiers of their duty, and to dissuade them from fighting against their brethren and fellow-subjects. After this, when Cromwell assumed the supreme power, he was not afraid to express his disaffection to his tyranny, though he did not think himself obliged to preach politics from the * To enter into all the gross things that have been said of Mr. Baxter Tby his enemies, would take up m< That he was going to the innumerable company of angels, and to the general assembly and church of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven; and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect ; and tct Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than the blood of Abel. " That Scripture, he said, deserved a thou- " sand thousand thoughts." He said, " O how comfort- " able is that promise, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, " neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the " things God has laid up for those who love him." At another time he said, " That he found great comfort " and sweetness in repeating' the words of the Lord's " Prayer, and was Sorry that some good people were- " prejudiced against the use of it; for there were all ne» " ,cessary petitions for soul and body contained in it." At other times he gave excellent counsel to young mi nisters that visited him, and earnestly prayed to God to bless their labours, and make them very successful in con verting many souls to Christ. And he expressed great-joy in the hopes that God would do a great deal of good by them, and that they were of moderate peaceful spirits. He did often pray that God would be* merciful to this miserable distracted world : And that he would preserve his church and interest in it. Pie 46 BAXTER. He advised his friends to beware of self-conceitedness* as a sin that was likely to ruin this nation : And said, " I have written a book against it,- which I am afraid " has done little good." Being asked whether he had altered his mind in con troversial points, he said, " Those that please, may know " my mind in my writings: And what he had done wa9 " not for his own reputation, but the glory of God." I went to him with a very worthy friend, Mr. Mather of New England, the day before he died ; and speaking some comforting words to him, he replied, " I have " pain, there is no arguing against sense, but I have " peace, I have peace." I told him, ' You are now ap- ' proaching to your long-desired home.' He answered, * " I believe, I believe." He said to Mr. Mather, " I " bless God that you have accomplished your business 5 " the Lord prolong your life." He expressed a great willingness to die ; and during his sickness, when the question was asked, how he did, his answer was, " Almost well." His joy was remarkable, when in his own apprehensions death was nearest : And his spiritual joy at length was consummated in eternal joy. Thus lived and died that blessed saint. I have, with out any artificial fiction of words, given a sincere short account of him. All our tears are below the just grief for such an invaluable loss. It is the comfort of his friends, that he enjoys a blessed reward in heaven, and has left a precious remembrance on the earth.' Thus far Dr. Bates. To this may be added from Mr. Sylvester a short account of his person. He was tall and slender, and stooped much : His countenance com-. posed and grave, somewhat inclining to smile. He had a piercing eye, a very articulate speech, and his deport ment rather plain than complimental. He had a great command over his thoughts. He had that happy faculty, so as to answer the character that was given of him by a learned man, dissenting from him, after a discourse with him; which was, ' That he could say what he would, ' and he could prove what he said.' It is impossible to read the account he gives of himself in his Reliquice .without emotion. The sickness and lan- fuors he underwent almost from his childhood, and which e has so pathetically described, render it matter of ad miration, that such a frame should hold out for seventy-six years, when, before twenty, he complained of a prema tura senectus, and all the symptoms of fourscore. The BAXTER. . 47 The stone which was generated in his kidneys, and which he sustained there above fifty years, is preserved in the British Museum. It is a large blue pebble, very much resembling the shape of a kidney itself. We cannot dismiss this memoir of so extraordinary a person, without affixing that memorial of gratitude which Dr. Bates renders for Mr. Baxter to Sir Henry Ashurst, Bart, his pious patron and frend. ' To the right worshipful, and his much honoured friend, Sir Henry Ashurst, Baronet. ' Sir, ' Your noble and constant kindness to Mr. Baxter living, and your honourable respect to him dead, have in- » duced me to inscribe the following memorial of him to j^ur name. He was most worthy of your highest esteem and love: for the first impressions of heaven upon your soul, were in reading his unvalued book of the Saint's Everlasting Rest. This kindled a mutual affection in your/ breasts? His love was directing, counselling, and exciting you to secure your future happiness : Your love was ob servant, grateful, and beneficent to him. The sincerity and generosity of your friendship was very evident, in your appearing and standing by him, when he was so roughly and unrighteously handled, by one who was the dishonour of this age's law, Chief Justice Jefferies, whose deportment in a high place of judicature was so contrarv to wisdom, and humanity, and justice, that there need no foul words to make his name odious. Of this and your other favours Mr. Baxter retained a dear and lasting sense ; and in his dying hours declared, that you had been the best friend he ever had. He has finished his course, and received his crown: His name will shine longer than his enemies shall bark. ' I cannot omit the mentioning, that Mr. Boyle and Mr. Baxter, those incomparable persons in their several studies, and dear friends, died within a short space of one another. Mr. Boyle was engaged in the contemplation of the design and architecture of the visible world, and made rare discoveries in the system of nature : Not for curio sity and barren speculation, but 'to admire and adore the perfections of the Deity in the variety, order, beauty, and marvellous artifice of the creatures that compose this great universe. Mr. Baxter was conversant in the invi sible world ; His mind was constantly applied to under stand 48 FLAVEL stand the harmonious agreement of the divine attributes, in the economy of our salvation, and to restore men to the image and favour of God. They are now admitted into the enlightened and purified society above, where the immense volumes of the divine wisdom are laid open, and, by one glance of an eye, they discover more per fectly the glorious and. wonderful works of God in hea ven and earth, than the most diligent inquirers can do here, in a thousand years' study, though they had the sagacity of Solomon. By the light of glory, they see the face of God, and are satisfied with his likeness for ever. ' It is a high honour to you, that Mr. Boyle and Mr. Baxter should by their last will nominate you amongst their executors. It was the saying of a wise Roman, A' Malo divi Augusti judicium, quam beneficium : I had ra- ' ther have the esteem of the Emperor Augustus than his 'gifts:' For he was an understanding prince, and his esteem was very honourable to a person. That two, who so excelled in wisdom and goodness, should commit to your trust the disposal of their estates, for the uses of piety and charity, is a more noble testimony of their esteem of your prudence and inviolable integrity, than if they had bequeathed to you rich legacies. ' It is a satisfaction to me, that I have complied with Mr. Baxter's desire in preaching his funeral sermon, and with your's in publishing. I shall unfeignedly recommend yourself, your excellent lady and virtuous children, to the divine mercies ; and remain, with great respect, < Sir, * Your humble and faithful servant, ' William Bates.* JOHN FLAVEL, Mr. JOHN FLAVEL was born in Worcestershire, He was religiously educated by his father, and, having profited weir at the grammar schools, was sent early to Oxford, and settled a commoner in University College. He plied his studies hard, and exceeded many of his con temporaries in university learning. j Soon FLAVEL. 49 Soon after his commencing bachelor of arts, Mr. Wal- plate, the minister of Deptford in the county of Devon, was rendered incapable of performing his office by reason of his age and infirmity, and sent to Oxford for an assist ant ; Mr. Flavel, though but young, was recommended to him as a person duly qualified, and was accordingly settled there by the standing committee of Devon, April 27, 1650, to preach as a probationer and assistant to Mr. Walplate. Mr. Flavel, considering the weight of his charge, ap plied himself to the work of his calling with great dili gence ; and being assiduous in reading, meditation and prayer, he increased in ministerial knowledge daily, so that he attained to an high degree of eminency and repu tation for his useful labours in the church. About six months after his settling at Deptford, he heard of an ordination to be at Salisbury, and therefore went thither with his testimonials, and offered himself to be examined and ordained by the Presbytery there : They appointed him a text, upon which he preached to their general satisfaction ; and having afterwards examined him as to his learning, &c. they set him apart to the work of the ministry, with prayer and imposition of hands, on the 17th day of October 1650. , - Mr. Flavel, being thus ordained, returned to Deptford, and after Mr. Walplate's death succeeded in the rectory. To avoid all incumbrances from the world, and avoca tions from his studies and ministerial work, he chose a person of worth and reputation in the parish, (of whom he had a good assurance, that he would be faithful to him self, and kind to his parishioners) and let him the whole tithes much below the real value, which was very well pleasing to his people. By this means he was the better able to deal with them in private, since the hire of his labours was no way a hindrance to the success of them. Whilsthe was at Deptford he married one Mrs. Joan Randal, a pious gentlewoman, of a good family, who died in travail of her first child, ; without being delivered. His year of mourning being expired, his acquaintance and intimate friends advised him to marry a second time, wherein he was again very happy. Her name was Eliza beth Morrice. Some time after this second marriage, the people of Dartmouth (formerly under the charge of the reverend Mr. Anthony Hartford, deceased) unanimously chose Mr. Flavel to succeed him. They ur^ed him to accept their call, 1. Because there were exceptions made VOL. IY. E against 50 FLAVEL. against all the other candidates, but none against him. 2. Because, being acceptable to the whole town, he was the more like to be an instrument of healing the breaches among the good people there. 3. Because Dartmouth, being a considerable and populous town, re quired an able and eminent minister, which was not so necessary' for a country parish, that might besides be more easily supplied with another pastor than Dartmouth. That which made them more pressing and earnest with Mr. Flavel, was this : At a provincial synod in that county, Mr. Flavel, though but a young man, was voted into the chair as moderator, where he opened the assem bly with a most devout and pertinent prayer : He exa mined the candidates who offered themselves to their f trials for the ministry with great learning ; stated the cases and questions proposed to them with much acuteness and judgment; and in the v^hole demeaned himself with that gravity, piety, and seriousness, during his presidency, that all the ministers of the assembly admired and loved him. The reverend Mr. Hartford, his predecessor at Dartmouth, took particular notice of him, from that time forward contracted a strict friendship with him, and spoke of him among the magistrates and people of Dart mouth, as an extraordinary person, who was like to be a great light in the church. This, with their having se veral times heard him preach, occasioned their importu nity with Mr. Flavel to come and be their minister ; upon which, having prayed over the matter, and submitted it to the decision of his neighbouring ministers, he was pre vailed upon to remove to Dartmouth, to his great loss in temporals, the rectory of Deptford being a much greater benefice. Mr. Flavel being settled at Dartmouth by the election of the people, and an order from Whitehall by the com missioners for approbation of public preachers, of the 19th of December 1656, he was associated with Mr. Allen Gear, a very worthy but sickly man. The ministerial work was thus divided betwixt them : Mr. Flavel was to preach on the Lord's day at Townstall, the mother' church, stand ing upon a hill without the town ; and every fortnight in his turn at the Wednesday's lecture in Dartmouth. Here God crowned his labours with many conversions. One of his judicious hearers expressed himself thus concerning him : ' I could say much, though not enough, of the ' excellency of his preaching ; of his seasonable, suitable, 1 and spiritual matter ? of his plain expositions of Scrip-* * ture ; his taking method, his genuine and natural de- ' ductions* FLAVEL. 51 * ductions, his convincing arguments, his clear and pow- ' eri'ul demonstrations, his heart-searching applications, ' and his comfortable supports to those that were afflicted • * in conscience. In short, that person must have a very ' soft head, or a very hard heart, or botlj, that could sit ' under his ministry unaffected.' By his unwearied application to study, he had acquired a great stock both of divine and human learning. He was master of the controversies betwixt the Jews and Christians, Papists and Protestants, Lutherans and CalT vinists, and betwixt the Orthodox, and the Arminians and Socinians : He was likewise well read in the controver sies about church-discipline, infant baptism, and antino- mianism. He was well acquainted with the school divi nity, and drew up a judicious and ingenious scheme of the whole body of that theology in good Latin, which he presented to a person of quality; but it was never printed. He was singularly well versed and exact in the oriental languages. He had one way of improving his knowledge, which is very proper for young divines ; whatever remarkable passage he heard in private confe rence, if he was familiar with the relater, he would de sire him to repeat it again, and insert it into his Adversa ria. By these methods he acquired a vast stock of proper materials for his popular sermons in the pulpit, and his more elaborate works for the press. He had an excellent gift of prayeV, and was never* at a loss in all his various occasions for suitable matter and words ; and, which was the most remarkable of all, he always brought with him a broken heart and moving affections; his tongue and spirit were touched with a live coal from the altar, and he was evidently assisted by the Holy Spirit of grace and supplication in that divine or dinance. Those who lived in his family, say, ' That he ' was always full and copious in prayer, seemed constant- ' ly to exceed himself, and rarely made use twice of the 6 same expressions.' When the act of uniformity turned him out with the rest of his non-conforming brethren, he did not thereupon quit his. relation to his church; he thought the souls of his flock to be more precious than to be so tamely ne glected : He took all opportunities of ministering the word and sacraments to them in private meetings, and joined with other ministers in solemn days of fasting and humiliation,- to pray that God would once more re store the free ministration of the Gospel. About four months 52 FLAVEL. months after that fatal Bartholomew-day, his reverend col league Mr. Allen Gear, died ; so that the whole care of the flock devolved upon Mr. Flavel, which, though a heavy and pressing burden, he undertook very cheerfully. Upon the execution of the Oxford act, which banished all non-conformist ministers five miles from any towns which sent members to parliament, he was forced to leave Dartmouth, to the great sorrow of his people, who followed him out of town ; and at Tbwnstall church-yard they took such a- mournful farewell of one another, as the place might very well have been called Bochin. He removed to Slapton, a parish five miles from Dartmouth, or any other corporation, which put him out of the le gal reach of his adversaries. Here he met with signal instances of God's fatherly care and protection, and preached twice every Lord's day to .such as durst adven ture to hear him, which many .of his own people and others did, notwithstanding the rigour and severity of the act against conventicles. He many times slipped pri vately into Dartmouth, where, by preaching and conver sation, he edified his flock, to the great refreshment of his own soul and theirs, though with very much danger, because of his watchful adversaries, who constantly laid wait for him, so that he could not make any long stay in the town. In those times, Mr. Flavel being at Exeter, was in vited to preach by many good people of that city, whn for safety chose a *wood about three miles from the city to be the place of their assembly, where they were broke tip by their enemies, by that time the sermon was well begun. Mr. Flavel, by the care of the people, made his escape through the middle of his enraged enemies : And though many of his hearers were taken, carried before Justice Tuckfield, and fined, yet the rest, being nothing discouraged, re-assembled, and carrying Mr. Flavel to another wood, he preached to them without any disturb ance; and, after he had concluded, rode to a gentleman's house near the wood, who, .though an absolute stranger to Mr. Flavel, entertained him v/ith great civility that' night, and the next day he returned to Exeter in. safety. Amongst those taken at this time, there was a tanner, who had a numerous family, and but a small stock ; he was fined notwithstanding in forty pounds, at which he was nothing discouraged; but told a friend, who asked ¦ him how he bore up under his loss, ' That he took the ' spoiling of his goods joyfully, for the sake of his Lord * Jesus, FLAVEL. 53 e Jesus, for whom his life and all that he had was too « little.' As soon as the nonconformists had any respite from their trouble, Mr. Flavel laid hold of the opportunity, and returned to Dartmouth, where, during the first in dulgence granted by King Charles II. he kept open doors, and preached freely to all that would come and hear him ; and when that liberty was revoked, he made it his business, notwithstanding, to preach in season and out of season, and seldom missed an opportunity of preaching on the Lord's Day. During this time, God was pleased to deprive him of his second wife, which was a great affliction, she having been a help meet for him ; and such an one he stood much in need of, being a man of an infirm and weak constitution, who laboured under many infirmities. In convenient time he married a third wife, Mrs. Ann Downe, daughter of Mr. Thomas Downe, mi nister at Exeter, who lived with him very happily eleven years, and left him two sons. The persecution against the nonconformists being re newed, Mr. Flavel found it unsafe to stay at Dartmouth, and therefore resolved to go to London, where he hoped to be in less danger, and to have more liberty to exercise his function. The night before he embarked for that end, he had the following premonition by a dream : He thought he was on board the ship, and that a storm arose which exceedingly terrified the passengers ; during their consternation, there sat writing at the fable a person of admirable sagacity and gravity, who had a child in a cradle by him that was very froward ; he 'thought he saw the father take up a little whip, and give the child a lash, saying, ' Child be quiet : I will discipline, but not ' hurt thee.' Upon this Mr. Flavel awaked, and musing on his dream, he concluded that he should meet with some trouble in his passage. His friends, being at dinner with him, assured him of a pleasant passage, because the wind and weather were very fair: Mr. Flavel replied, '? That he was not of their mind, but expected much " trouble because of his dream ;" adding, " that when " he had such representations made to him in his sleep, " they seldom or never failed." Accordingly, when they were advanced within five leagues of Portland in their voyage, they were overtaken by a dreadful tempest, insomuch that, betwixt one and two in the morning, the master and seamen concluded, that unless God changed the wind, there was no hope 54 FLAVEL. of life; it was impossible for them to weather Portland, so that they must of necessity be wrecked on the rocks or on the shore. Upon this Mr. Fiavel called all the hands that could be spared into the cabin to prayer; but the violence of the tempest was such, that they could not prevent themselves from being thrown from the one side unto the other, as the ship was tossed, and not only so, but mighty seas broke in upon them, as if they would have drowned them in the very cabin, Mr. Flavel in this danger took hold of the two pillars of the cabin bed, and calling upon God, begged mercy for himself and the rest in the ship. Amongst other arguments in prayer, he made use of this, that if he and, his company perished in that storm, the name of God would be blasphemed ; the enemies of religion would say, that though he escaped their hands on shore, yet divine vengeance had overtaken him at sea. In the midst of prayer his faith arid hope were raised, insomuch that he expected a gracious an swer ; so that, committing himself and his companions to the mercy of God, he concluded the duty. No sooner was prayer ended, but one came down from the deck, crying, ' Deliverance ! Deliverance ! God is a ' God hearing prayer ! In a moment the wind is become ' fair west !' And so sailing before it, they were brought ; safely to London. Mr. Flavel found many of his old friends there, and God raised him new ones, with abundance of work, and extraordinary encouragement in it. During his stay in London, he married his fourth wife, a widow gentlewoman, (daughter to Mr. George Jefferies, formerly minister of King's Bridge) who sur vived him. Mr. Flavel, while he was in London, narrowly escaped being taken, with the Reverend Mr. Jenkins, at Mr! Fox's in Moorfields, where they were keeping a day of fasting and prayer. He was so near, that he heard the insolence of the officers and soldiers to Mr. Jenkins when they had taken him, and observed it in his diary, that Mr. Jenkins might have escaped as well as himself, had it not been for a piece of vanity in a lady, whose long train hindered his going down stairs, Mr. Jenkins out of his too great civility having let her pass before him. Mr. Flavel, after this, returned to Dartmouth, where with his family, and dear people, he blessed God for his mercies towards him. He was, in a little time after, confined close prisoner to his house, where many of his flock stole in over-night, or betimes on the Lord's day ia FLAVEL. 55 in the morning, to enjoy the benefit of his labours, and spend the Sabbath in hearing, praying, singing of psalms, and holy discourses. Mr. Jenkins above-mentioned dying in prison, his peo ple gave Mr. Flavel a call to the pastoral office among them, and Mr. Reeves's people did the like. Mr. Flavel communicated those calls • unto his flock, and kept a day of prayer with them, to beg direction from God in this important affair ; he was graciously pleased to answer them, by fixing Mr. Flavel's resolution to stay with his flock at Dartmouth. Many arguments were made use of to persuade him to come to London : as, that since he was turned out by the act of uniformity, he had had but very little maintenance from his church ; that those in London were rich and numerous congrega tions ; that he had a family and children to provide for ; and that the city was a theatre of honour and reputation. But none of those things could prevail with him to leave his. poor people at Dartmouth. In 1687, when it pleased God so to over-rule affairs, that King James II. thought it his interest to dispense with the penal laws against them, Mr. Flavel, who had formerly been confined to a corner, shone brightly, as a flaming beacon upon the top of an hill. His affectionate people prepared a large place for him, where God blessed his labours to the conviction of many people, by his serT mons on Rev. iii. 20. Behold, I stand at the door and knock. This encouraged him to print those sermons, un der the title of England's Duty, Sec. hoping that they might do good abroad as well as in his. own congregation. He had made a vow to the Lord under his confinement, that if he should be once more entrusted with public liberty, he would improve it to the advantage of the gos pel ; this he performed in a most, conscientious manner, preaching twice every Lord's day, and lecturing every Wednesday, in which he went over most of the third chapter of St. John, shewing, the indispensable necessity of regeneration. He preached likewise every Thursday before the Sacrament, and then after examination admit ted communicants. He had no assistance on Sacrament days, so that he was many times almost spent before he distributed the elements. When the duty of the day was over, he would often complain of a sore breast, an aching head, and a pained back ; yet he would be early at study again next Monday. He. allowed himself very little re creation, 56 F L A V E L. creation, accounting time a precious jewel, that ought to - be improved at any rate. He was not only a zealous preacher in the pulpit, but a sincere Christian in his closet, frequent in self-examina tion, as well as in pressing it upon others ; being afraid, lest while he preached to others, he himself should be a cast-away. To, prove this, I shall transcribe what fol lows from his own diary. " 1. To make sure of eternal life, -said he, is the great " business which the sons of death have to do in this world. " Whether a man consider the immortality of his own " soul, the ineffable joys and glory of heaven, the ex- " treme and endless torments of hell, the inconceivable " sweetness of peace of conscience, or the misery of being " subject to the errors thereof: All these put a necessity, " a solemnity, a glory upon this work. But, Oh ! the *' difficulties and dangers attending it ! How many, and " how great are these ? What judgment, faithfulness, " resolution, and watchfulness, doth it require ? Such is " the deceitfulness, darkness, and inconstancy of our " hearts, and such the malice, policy, and diligence of " Satan, to manage and improve it, that he who attempts " this wprk had need both to watch his seasons for it, " and frequently look up to God for his guidance and " illumination, and to spend many sad and serious thoughts " before he adventure upon a determination and conclu- " sion of the state of his soul. " To the end, therefore, that this most important " work may not miscarry in my hands, I have collected " with all the care I can, the best and soundest charac- " ters' I can find in the writings of our modern divines, " taken out of the Scripture, and by their labours illusr " trated and prepared for use, that I might make a right " application of them. " 1. I have earnestly besought the Lord for the assis- " tance of his Spirit, which can only manifest my own " heart unto me, and shew me the true state thereof, " which is that thing my soul doth most earnestly desire " to know : And I hope the Lord will answer my desire " therein, according to his promises, Luke xi. 13. John " xiv. 26. " 2. I have endeavoured to cast out and lay aside self- " love, lest, my heart being prepossessed therewith, my " judgment should be perverted and become partial in " passing sentence on my estate: I have in some mea- " sure brought my heart to be willing to judge and con- " demri FLAVEL. 57 " demn myself for an hypocrite, if such I shall be found " on trial, as to approve myself for sincere and upright : " Yea, I would have it so far from being grievous to me I' so to do, that if I have been all this while mistaken and f deceived, I shall rejoice and bless the Lord with my " soul, that now at last it may be discovered to me, and " I may be set right, though I lay the foundation new " again. This I have laboured to bring my heart to, <( knowing that thousands havp dashed and split to pieces " upon this rock. And indeed he that will own the " person of a judge, must put off the person of a " friend. " 3. It hath been my endeavour to keep upon my heart " a deep sense of that great judgment-day throughout this " work, as knowing by experience what a potent in- " fluence this hath on the conscience, to make it delibe- " rate, serious, and faithful in its work ; and therefore I " have demanded of my own conscience, before the re- " solution of each question : O my conscience, deal " faithfully with me in this particular, and say no more " to me than thou wilt own and stand to in the great " day, when the counsels of all hearts shall be made " manifest. " 4. Having seriously weighed each mark, and con- " sidered wherein the weight and substance of it lieth, I " have gone to the Lord in prayer for his assistance, " ere I have drawn up the answer of my conscience ; " and as my heart hath been persuaded therein, so have " I determined and resolved ; what hath been clear to my " experience, I have so set down, and what hath been " dubious, I have here left it so. " 5. I have made choice of the fittest seasons I had " for this work, and set to it when I have found my " heart in the most quiet and serious frame. For as he " that will see his face in a .glass, must be fixed, not ia " motion, or in the water, must make no commotion " in it, so it is in this case. " Lastly, To the end I may be successful in this " work, I have laboured all along carefully to distin- " guish betwixt such sins as are grounds of doubt- " ing, and such as are only grounds of humiliation ; " knowing that not every evil is a ground of doubt- *' ing, though all, even the smallest infirmities, ad- " minister matter of humiliation : And thus I have \' desired to enterprize this great business. O Lord, " assist thy servant, that he may not mistake here- " in : 58 FLAVEL. " in ; but if his conscience do now condemn him, he " may lay a better foundation whilst he hath time, and " if it shall now acquit him, he may also have boldness ". in the day of judgment." These things being previously dispatched, he tried himself by the Scripture marks of sincerity and regene ration ; by this means he attained to a well-grounded assurance, the ravishing comforts of which were many times shed abroad in his soul : This made him a power ful and successful preacher, as one who spoke from his own heart to those of others. He preached what he felt, what he had handled, what he had seen and tasted of the word of life, and they felt it also. We may guess what a sweet and blessed intercourse -I.e. had with heaven, from that history we meet with in his " n»EU/xaIoXoyia," p. 323, which I refer to, and like wise from that revelation he had of his father and mo ther's death, p. 339. He was a mighty wrestler with God in secret prayer, and particularly begged of h'm to crown his sermons, printed books, and private dis courses, with the conversion of poor sinners, a work which his heart was much set upon. It pleased God to answer him by many instances, of which the two that follow deserve peculiar notice : In 1673, there came to Dartmouth port a ship of Pool, in her return from Virginia; the surgeon of this ship, a lusty young man of twenty-three years of age, fell into a deep melancholy, which the devil improved to make him murder himself. This he attempted on the Lord's dav rarly in the morning, when he was in bed with his brother ; he first cut his, own throat with a knife he had prepared on purpose, and leaping out of the bed, thrust it into his stomach, and so lay wallowing in his own blood, till his brother awaked and cried for help. A physician and surgeon were brought, who concluded the wound in his throat mortal : They stitched it up how ever, and applied a plaster, but without hopes of cure, because he already breathed through the wound, and his voice was become inarticulate. Mr. Flavel came to visit him in this condition, and, apprehending him to be within a few minutes of eternity, laboured to prepare him for it ; he asked him his own apprehensions of his condition, and the young man answered, ' That he hoped ' in God for eternal life.' Mr. Flavel replied, " That he " feared his hopes were ill-grounded ; the Scripture tells t' us, that No murderer hath eternal life abiding in him ; " self FLAVEL. 59 " self-murder was the grossest of all murder, &c." Mr. Flavel insisted so much upon the aggravations of the crime, that the young man's conscience began to fail, his heart began t» melt, and then he broke out into tears, bewail ing his sin and misery, and asked Mr. Flavel, ' If there ' might yet be any hope for him ?' he told him, " There " might :" And finding him altogether unacquainted with the nature of faith and repentance, he opened them to liim. The poor man sucked in this doctrine greedily, prayed with great vehemence to God that he would work them on his soul, a,rrd intreated Mr. Flavel to pray with him, and for him, -that he might be, though late, a sincere gospel penitent, and sound believer. Mr. Flavel prayed with him accordingly, and it pleased God ex ceedingly to melt the young man's heart during the performance of that duty. He was very lothe to part with Mr. Flavel, but the duty of the day obliged him to be gone ; in a" few words he summed up those coun sels that he thought most necessary, and so took his fare well of him, never expecting to see him any more in this world. But it pleased God toorder it otherwise ; the young man continued alive, contrary to all expectation, panted earnestly after the Lord Jesus, and no discourse was pleasing to him, but that of Christ and faith. In this frame Mr. Flavel found him in the evening ; he re joiced greatly when he saw him come again, intreated him to'continue his discourse upon this subject, and told him, ' Sir, the Lord hath given me repentance for this, ' and for all my other sins ; I see the evil of them now, ' so as I never saw them before! O, I lothe myself ! ' I do also believe : Lord, help my unbelief! I am heartily ' willing to take Christ upon his own terms ; but one ' thing troubles me, I doubt this bloody sin will not be ' pardoned. Will Jesus Christ, said he, apply his blood ' to me, that have shed my own blood?' Mr. Flavel told him, " That the Lord Jesus had shed , his blood " for them that with wicked hands had shed his own " blood, which was a greater sin than the shedding of " his ;" to which the wounded man replied, ' I will ' cast myself upon Christ, ,let him do what he will.' In this condition Mr. Flavel left him that night- Next morning his wounds were to be opened, and the surgeon's opinion was, that he would immediately ex pire : Mr. Flavel was again requested to give him a visit, which he did, found him in a very serious frame, and prayed with him. The wound in his stomach was after- Wards opened, when the ventricle was so swollen, that it 60 FLAVEL.1 it came out at the orifice of the wound, and lay like a livid discoloured tripe upon his body, and was also cut through ; every one thought it impossible for him to live ; however tlie surgeon enlarged the orifice of the wound, fomented it, and wrought the ventricle again into his body, and, stitching up the wound, left his patient to the disposal of Providence. , It pleased God that he was cured of these dangerous wounds in his body ; and, upon solid grounds of a ra tional charity, there was reason to believe that he was also cured of that more dangerous wound which sin had made on his soul. Mr. Flavel spent many hours with him during the time of his illness ,• and when the sur geon returned to Pool, after his recovery, Mr. Samuel1 Hardy, that worthy minister there, thanked Mr. Flavel in a letter, for the great pains he had taken with that young man, and congratulated his success, assuring him, that if ever a great and thorough work was wrought, it was upon that man, The second instance is. this : Mr. Flavel being in Lon don in 1673, his old bookseller, Mr. Boulter, gave him the following relation, viz. ' That some time be- ' fore, there came into his shop a sparkish gentleman ' to inquire for some play books; Mr. Boulter told him ' he had none, but shewed him Mr. Flavel's little treatise < of " Keeping the Heart," intreated him to read it, ' and assured him it would do him more good than ' play books.' The gentleman read the title, and glancing upon several pages here and there, broke out into these and such other expressions : ' What a damnable fanatic ' was he who made this book ?' Mr. Boulter begged of him to buy and read it, and told him ' he had no cause * to censure it so bitterly ;' at last he bought it, but told him ' he would not read it.' ' What wiil you do with ' it then, said Mr. Boulter ?' ' I will tear and burn ' it, said he, and send it to the devil.' Mr. Boulter told him, ' then he should not have it.' Upon this the gentleman promised to read it ; and Mr. Boulter told him, ' If he disliked it upon reading, he would return * him his money.' About a month after, the gentle man came to the shop again in a very modest habit, and, with a serious countenance, bespeaks Mr. Boulter thus : ' Sir, I most heartily thank you for putting this ', book into my hands ; I bless God that moved you to ' do it: it hath saved my soul ;. blessed be God that ever. < I came into your shop.' And then he bought a hun dred FLAVEL. 61 tired more of those books of him, told him ' he would * give them to the poor, who could not buy them,' and so left him, praising and admiring tire goodness of God. Thus it pleased God to bless the sermons, discourses, and writings of Mr. Flavel. He never delighted in controversies, but was obliged, Contrary to his inclinations, to write against Mr. Gary, the principal baptist in Dartmouth, with whom however he maintained a friendly and Christian correspondence. When he wrote his " Planelogia, or, Blow at the Root," he declared to his friends, that though those studies were very necessary, he took no pleasure in them, but had rather be employed in practical divinity. When he composed his " Reasonableness of personal Reformation, he told an intimate acquaintance of his, " That he sel- " dom had a vain thought to interrupt him, which made " him hope it would do the more good in the world." He purposed to have enlarged his book of " Sacra-« " mental Meditations," and had most judiciously stated and handled several cases of conscience on that occasion, which he designed to have inserted in the next edition, but lived not to finish them for the press. Many times, when he preached abroad, he has had letters sent him from unknown persons, informing him how God had blessed his ministry to their souls, and converted them from being bitter enemies to religion. This erfcouraged him when he rode abroad, not only to accept of invitations to preach, but many times to effer his labours unto those that would be pleased to hear him ; though for this he had no occasion where he was known, the people being generally importunate with him. One day after a long and hard journey, an intimate friend of his, out of a tender regard to him, pressed him with cogent arguments to forbear preaching at that season, but could not prevail with him ; his bowels of com passion to needy and perishing souls made him overlook all considerations of himself: He preached an excellent sermon, by which there was one converted, as he de clared himself afterwards upon his admission to the Lord's table. . The last sermon that he preached to his people at Dartmouth, was on a public day of fasting and humilia tion ; in the close of which he' was enlarged in such an extraordinary a manner, when offering Up praises to God for mercies received, that he seemed to be in an extacy. This happened about a week before his death, and may be justly accounted a foretaste of those heavenly raptures 62 FLAVEL, raptures that he now enjoys amongst the blessed spirits" above. The last sermon he preached was on the 21st of June 1691, at Ashburton, from 1 Cor. x. 12 Wherefore, let him that siandeth take heed lest he fall. It was a very pathetic and excellent discourse, tending to awaken careless professors, and to stir' them up to be solicitous about their souls. After having preached this sermon, he went to Exeter ; and at Topsham, within three miles of that city, he presided as moderator in an assembly of the nonconformist ministers of Devonshire, who unanimously voted him into the chair : The occasion of their meeting was about an union betwixt the presbyterians and in dependents, which Mr.- Flavel was very zealous to pro mote, and brought to so great an issue in those parts, that the ministers declared their satisfaction with the heads of agreement concluded on by the London mi nisters of those denominations. Air. Flavel closed the work of the day with prayer and praises, in which his spirit was carried out with wonderful enlargement and affection. He wrote a letter to an eminent minister in London, with an account of their proceedings, that same day that he died ; Providence ordering it so, that he should finish that good work his heart was so intent upon, before he finished his course. The manner of his death was sudden and surprising: His friends thought him as well that day in the evening of which he died, as he had been for many years : To-» wards the end of supper he complained of a deadness in one of his hands, that he could not lift it up to his head. This struck his wife and his friends about him into an astonishment ; they used some means to recover it to its former strength, but instead thereof, to their great grief the distemper seized all upon one side of his body. They put him to bed with all speed, and sent for physicians, but to no purpose ; his distemper prevailed upon him so fast, that in a short time it made him speechless. He was sensible of his approaching death ; and when they carried him up stairs, expressed , his opinion, " That it would be the last time;" but added,. " / know that it will be well with me ,¦" which were some of his last words. Thus died this holy man of God suddenly, and without pain, not giving so much as one groan. Pie exchanged this life for a better, on the 26th day of June 1691, in the 64th vear of his age. His FLAVEL. 63 His corpse was carried from Exeter to Dartmouth, at tended by several ministers, and a great many other per sons of good quality ; abundance of people rode out from Dartmouth, Totness, Newton, Ashburton, and other places, to meet the corpse ; when it was taken out of the hearse at the water side, his people and other friends could not forbear expressing the sense of their great loss, by floods of tears, and a bitter lamentation. It was interred the same night in Dartmouth church, and next day Mr. George Trosse,, a minister of Exeter, preached his funeral sermon from Elisha's lamentation upon the translation of Elijah, 2 Kings ii. 12 My father, my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof We shall conclude with a character of Mr. Flavel. He was a man of a middle stature, and full of life and activity : He was very Thoughtful, and, when not dis coursing or reading, much taken up in meditation j. which made him digest his notions well. He was ready to learn from every body, and as free to communicate what he knew. He was bountiful to his own relations, and very charitable to the poor, but especially to the household of faith, and the necessitous members of his own church, to whom, during their sickness, he always sent suitable supplies. He freely taught academical learning to four young men, whom he bred to the ministry, and one of them he maintained all the while at his own charge. He was exceedingly affectionate to all the people of Dart mouth, of which we shall give one remarkable instance : When our fleet was first engaged with the French, he called his people together to a solemn fast, and like a man in an agony, wrestled with God in prayer for the church and nation, and particularly for the poor seamen of Dartmouth, that they might obtain mercy ; the Lord heard and answered him, for not one of that town was killed in the fight, though many of them were in the engagement. As he was a faithful ambassador to his Master, he made his example the rule of his own practice, and was so far from reviling again those that reviled him, that he prayed for those that despitefully used him ; one remarkable in stance of which is as follows : In 1685, some of the peo ple of Dartmouth, accompanied too by some of the magis trates, made up his effigy, carried it through the streets in derision, with the covenant and bill of exclusion pin ned to it, and set it upon a bonfire, and burnt it ; some of the spectators were so much affected with the reproach and ignominy done to this reverend and pious minister, that 64 FLAVEL. that they wept, and others scoffed and jeered. It wai observable, that at the very- same time, though he knew nothing of the matter, he was heaping coals of fire ol another nature upon the heads of these enemies ; for he was then praying for the town of Dartmouth, its magis trates and inhabitants : And when news was brought him, upon the conclusion of his prayer, what they had been doing, he lift up his prayer unto God for them in our Saviour's words, " Father, forgive them, for they know not " what they do.v His Works: I. n«up*roXdy»«, of a Treatise of the Soul of Man. II. The Fountain of Life, in forty-two Ser mons. III. The Method of Grace, in thirty-five Ser mons. [In both Volumes the Sermons are on various Subjects.] IV. England's Duty, in 'eleven Sermons, on Rev. iii. 20. V. A Token for Mourners. VI. Hus bandry spiritualized. VII. Navigation spiritualized. VIII. Repentance enforced by Arguments from Reason only. IX. Several other Pieces, collected since his Death, are printed in two Volumes, fol. with his Life prefixed. They may also be had in eight Volumes, 8vo. JOHN CONANT, D.D. J. HIS learned and eminent English Divine was born upon the 18th of October, in the year 1608, at Yeaten- ton in Devonshire. He was descended from a very good family, of a competent fortune, that had flourished for many years in that county, but was originally French. He was educated in classical learning at private schools Under the inspection of his uncle, the reverend John Conant; and in the year 1626, entered by him of Exeter College in Oxford, of which he had been himself nine years a fellow. He studied there with vigour and application, and soon distinguished himself for uncommon parts and learning. He was very remarkable for the purity and perspicuity of his Latin style ; and of the Greek he was so perfect a master, as often to dispute publicly in that language in the schools ; which extraordinary accom plishments recommended him highly to Dr. John Pri- deaux, then rector of Exeter College, and the king's pro fessor C 0 N A N T. 65 lessor in divinity, who, according to the fashion of wit in those times, used to say of him, ' Conanti nihil diffi- ( die;'' which, in one sense, implies, to him who endea vours, every thing is easy ; and in another, there is no thing difficult to Conant. And he said of him, ' Jack * Conant will have my place;' both which eminent places that Dr. Prideaux then enjoyed, were, in process of time, conferred on Dr. Conant. He took his degrees regularly; and, upon the third of July 1633, was chosen fellow of his college, in which he became an eminent tutor. Upon the breaking out of the civil war, he judged it convenient to leave the university; and he did so in the year 1642. He retired first to Lymington, his uncle's living in Somersetshire ; where, his uncle being fled, and he in orders, he officiated as long as he could continue there with safety. While he was at Lymington, he was constituted by the parliament one of the assembly of di vines ; but it is said, that he never sat among them, or at least very seldom, since it is certain that he never took the covenant. He afterwards followed his uncle to London, and then became a domestic chaplain to the Lord Chandos, in whose family he lived at Harefield, near Uxbridge. He is said to have sought this situation, for the sake of keeping himself as clear from all engage ments and scrapes, as the nature and fickle condition of those times would permit. Upon the same motive, he resigned his fellowship of Exeter College, on the 27th of September 1647; but, upon the 7th of June 1649, was unanimously chosen rector of it by the fellows, without iany application of his own. In a very short time, however, after being thus set tled, he was in great danger of being driven out of all public employment again ; and this by the parliament's enjoining what was called the engagement, which he did not take within the time prescribed. He had a fort night given him to consider further of it; at the end of which he submitted, but under a declaration, subscribed at the same time with the engagement, which in fact enervated that instrument entirely. .The terms of the engagement were: ' You shall promise to be true and ' faithful to the commonwealth of England, as it is now ' established without King or House of Lords.' Dr. Co- nant's declaration before the commissioners, when he took the engagement, was in this- form and manner: " Being " required to subscribe, I humbly premise, First, That *' I be not hereby understood to approve of what hath VOL. IV. F been 66 CONANT. " been done in order unto, or under this present go-' " vernment, or the government itself: Nor will I be " thought to condemn it, they being things above my " reach, and I not knowing the grounds of the proceed- " ings. Secondly4, That I do not bind myself to do any " thing contrary to the word of God. Thirdly, That I " do not so hereby bind myself, but that, if God shall " remarkably call me to submit to any other power, I " may be at liberty to obey that call, notwithstanding " the present engagement. Fourthly, In this sense, and " in this sense only, I do promise to be true and faithful " to the present government, as it is now established " without King or House of Lords." This difficulty being got over, he went on to discharge his office of rector of Exeter -College with great approba tion; and, in December 1654, became divinity professor of the University of Oxford. In the year 1657, he accepted the impropriate rectory of Abergelcy, near St. Asaph in Denbighshire, as some satisfaction for the benefices for merly annexed to the divinity chair, which he never en joyed ; but, knowing it to have belonged to the bishopric of St. Asaph, he immediately quitted it, upon the re- establishment of episcopacy. On the 19th of October 1657, he was admitted vice-chancellor of the university, which high dignity he held till the 1st of August 1660. During, his office, he was very instrumental in procuring Mr. Selden's large and valuable collection of books for the public library, and had a great hand in defeating a de sign, to which the Protector, Oliver, gave his consent, of erecting a kind of university at Durham. Upon the restoration of King Charles II. Dr. Conant, as vice-chancellor of Oxford, came up to London, attended by the proctors, and many of the principals, and was in troduced to the king, to whom he made a Latin speech, and presented a book of verses, written by the members- of the university. On the 25th of March 1661, the king issued a commission for the review of the book of com mon prayer, in which Dr. Conant was one of the com missioners, and assisted at the Savoy conferences. But after this, upon the passing of the act of uniformity, not thinking, it right to conform, he suffered himself to be deprived of his preferments; and accordingly his rectory of Exeter College was pronounced vacant, upon the 1st of September 1662. At length, after eight years' serious deliberation upon the nature and lawfulness of conformity, his conscience was CONANT. 67 •was satisfied,* and he resolved to comply in all parts, and in particular with that which had probably stuck most with him, the being "re-ordained. "Accordingly he was so, upon the 28th of September 1670, by Dr. Reynolds, Bishop of Norwich, whose daughter he had married in August 1651, by whom he had six sons and as many daughters. Preferments were offered him immediate ly ; and on the 18th of December, the same year, he was elected minister of St. Mary, Aldermanbury, in London; but having spent some years in the town of Northampton, where he was much beloved, he chose rather to accept the invitation of his neighbours to remain among them ; and Dr. Simon Ford, who was then minister of All-Samts, going to St. Mary's, Aldermanbury, he was nominated to succeed him at Northampton. It is remarkable, tha't on the 20th of September 1 675, he had the mortification to see the greatest part of his parish, together with his church, burnt to the ground, thougU providentially his own house escaped. In the year 1676, the archdeaconry of Norwich be coming * We have a very curious as well as circumstantial account of his behaviour upon this occasion, and of the methods he took to resolve his own case of conscience, whether he ought to conform or not, in his son's memoirs. ' He applied himself very closely, for some time* to the study of the ' controversies relating to conformity. He had deliberately weighed ' and considered the whole compass of these disputes, and made himself ' master of every turn in them. He had not only examined what had ' been objected to the several offices of the liturgy, it's doxologies ' and responsals, it's rubrics and kalendar, and thoroughly considered ' all the phrases and modes of expression in each service, but like- ' wise compared it with ancient liturgies, as well as with the Holy ' Scriptures, doctrines of the apostles, and later rituals and offices. ' This appears from his papers in my hands, running over many of ' the passages in the book of Common Prayer that have been objected^ ' to, and giving such orthodox senses of them, as he concludes were ' agreeable to the judgment of the first right reverend and pious com- ' pilers of them. And, I persuade myself, were they perfect, they ' might reconcile the most scrupulous to join in those excellent forms ' of prayer.' He adds afterwards : ' Dr. Conant's conformity could ' not be surprizing to anyone that considers, that his prejudices were ' never'manyi and those not strong or violent, though his determina- * tions vi ere slow- and advised; One would rather wonder, that he did ' not conform much sooner than he did, since it is certain, that his ' temper was never soured by the loss of his college; that he had an * awt'irl regard for the commands of authority in things indifferent; ' that he constantly blamed those, who held their assemblies at hours ' that interfered with the public worship of God, in affront to the civil ' , sanctions of the laws, to good order and parochial communion ; ' tint he was so far from being ambitious of a separate congregation, ' ' or covetous of tueir contributions, that he had industriously kept oat ' of the, way of both.-' 68 CONANT. coming vacant by the death of Mr. John Reynolds, his brother-in-law, the bishop offered him that preferment, with this singular compliment : ' I do not expect thanks * from you, but I will be very thankful to you if you ' will accept of it,' He accepted it after some delibera tion, and discharged the office worthily, as long as health permitted him.* Upon the 3d of December 1681, he was installed a pre bendary in the church of Worcester. The Earl of Radnor, an old friend and contemporary of his at Exeter College, asked it for him from King Charles II. in these terms; ' Sir, I come to beg a preferment of you for a very deserv- ' ing person,, who never sought any thing for himself;' and, upon * He was not only constantly resident in his parish, except when his other offices absolutely required his attendance, but also constantly officiated in person, preaching twice every Sunday, and taking care, to inculcate practical religion in the plainest and most pathetic language. In the evenings he catechized the children; and, amongst them, his own were always present. He seldom, if ever, visited his parishioners, more especially I hose of the better sort, in a ceremonious v/.&y ; but bis clerk had strict orders to inform him when any were sick, and then, without staying to be sent for, he readily waited upon the meanest of his flock. He was not afraid to speak freely where it was necessary, out of any respect to persons; and, where ne saw the appearance of dis tress, he relieved with a bounty suitable rather to his inclinations than his circumstances. He was one of the most remarkable casuists in his- time, and was not only resorted to by some' who lived at a great distance, but his advice was likewise asked, by letters, even from foreigners. At- his duties took up a great part of his time, so the short spaces that he allowed to those relaxations which are absolutely necessary for the relief of human nature, were dedicated to things that would have hardly pass ed with many for recreation. Reading a few pages in the classics, hear ing some remarkable piece of history, and discoursing upon it to his children, or explaining to them some point in Natural Philosophy, that they, might have just notions of the wisdom of Providence, and an early impression of the reverence due to its divine Author, were his only diversions. Yet, with all this strictness of manners, he had nothing either of moroseness or pride, great evenness of temper, which never rose higher than being cheerful ; and, on the other hand, was never de pressed by temporal losses or corporeal pain; his humility so true,. that it discovered itself upon all occasions; he knew little of form and eeremonies, and, from the little be did know, despised them ; yet, from natural sweetness of temper, he was obliging to all, and courteous to even the meanest in his parish. His charity,, as has been before hinted, had less relation to his circumstances than any other point of his con duct. At Northampton, for twenty years together, he paid for the schooling of poor children, never fewer than twenty-four, and some times nearer forty f and these he placed out with several needy widows, that what he gave might contribute to their assistance. He was, upon all occasions, ready to promote the relief sought by strangers, of which various instances are given in his son's memoirs; but we have already exceeded the usual limits of such an article, for which the worth of it must be our apology; for it would be hard, as well as unjust, to say but little of so great and good a Man. F L E MING. 69 upon naming him, the King very kindly consented. In the year 1686, after his eyes had been for some time weak, he lost his sight entirely, but he did not die till the 12th of' March 1693, when he was in the eighty-sixth year of his age. He was buried in his own parish church of All Saints in Northampton, where a monument, was erected over him by his widow with a suitable inscription. He was a man of very solid and extensive learning; yet so very modest, it is said, that though he understood most of the oriental languages, and was particularly versed in the Syriac, yet few people knew it. There have been published six volumes of his sermons : The first in 1693, and dedicated by himself to the inhabitants of Northamp ton ; the second after his death, in 1697, by John, Bishop of Chichester ; the third in 1698; the fourth in 1703; the fifth in 1708, by the same editor ; the sixth in 1722, by Digby Cotes, M. A. principal of Magdalen Hall in Oxford. ROBERT FLEMING. W E are indebted for the memoir of this extraordinary man to the funeral sermon preached upon his death by the Rev. Mr. Daniel Burgess, who informs us, that our Author was born at Bathens, the seat of the Earls of Tweeddale, in the year 1630, where his father, James Fleming, was long a minister of the gospel ; and, being a learned pious man, took great care of his son Robert's education, sending him first to the University of Edin burgh, where he went through the course of philosophy with great applause, and made great progress in the learned languages, and then removed him to St, An drew's, where he studied divinity under the tuition of the famous Mr. Rutherford. His natural parts were excel lent, his understanding quick and penetrating, his judg ment clear and profound, his fancy rich and fluent, his memory strong, and his expressions masculine, and of a peculiar grace, especially to those who were acquainted with the idiom and accents of his country language. These talents 70 F L E M I N G. talents he so cultivated by diligent study, that his acquir ed learning was answerable to them. He made particular application to history, especially sacred history ; but to him all history was sacred, valuing the knowledge of all things human, only as they led to a further knowledge of God, with whose holy counsels and ways he was early and deeply acquainted. " His conversion to God (says Mr. Burgess) was indeed early and distinguishing. It was but a little while that he had dwelt in this world, before God dwelt in him, and he in God ; and that so evidently in the exercise of Christian graces, that little more doubt was made of his being born again from above, than of his being born of a woman. He walked with Gqo as Enoch of old, humbly, self-denied, blameless in all the ways of holiness, having a respect to all God's com mands. His solemn dedication of himself to God was frequent ; his soliloquies with him almost perpetual ; and it was his constant custom, from the age of fifteen or six teen, to set apart the first day of every year for renewing his covenant with God, or, if interrupted that day, to take the next." Before he was full twenty-three years of age, he was called to a pastoral charge at Cambuslang, in Clydesdale, where he ministered till after the restoration of King Charles II. when a persecution arose, and by certain. acts, particularly one called the Glasgow act, near four hundred ministers were ejected, of whom Mr. Fleming was one. By this time he had a wife (Christiana Hamil ton, a woman justly admired for her person, gifts, and graces) and seven children, whom with himself he cheer fully committed to the providential care of God, and with great humility received his expulsion. His share of worldly substance seemed to be according to Agur's wish: He has told me (says Mr. D. Burgess) that, with Luther, he never desired much of this world, or was very careful about it; and that in the times of tribu lation, his table was spread, and cup filled, and his head anointed with fresh oil. He was enabled to give his children a liberal education, and to be rich in good works; but for himself, he had no treasure laid up but in the kingdom of heaven- " My life (says he) was once made " up of seeming contrarieties, great outward trouble, f and great inward comfort. And I never found (adds t' he) more comfort, than when I was under most af, «' fliction." For FLEMING. 71 For some time after he was ejected, he lived mostly at Edinburgh and in Fife, till September 1673, when all the. ministers in and about Edinburgh were called to appear before the council to hear their sentence, and to repair to the places of their confinement ; but he and some others not appearing, they were ordered to be apprehended wherever they could be found. Which made him shift as well as he could for some time, till he was at last ap^ prehended and imprisoned in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, where he was during the time of Bothwel battle. How ever he was soon liberated and went to Holland, where, after the death of the famous and faithful Mr. Brown, f he was admitted minister of the Scots congregation at Rotterdam. And here again his activity in the ministry was such as indeed might be expected from a soul, comprehensive of the interests of God and his church, the present age, and future generations ; a soul inflamed with love, by which he was sweetly constrained to spend and be spent, not in the support of any party, but of true catholic Chris tianity. What sort of a writer he was, his works suffi ciently shew. In preaching, he was both a Boanerges and a Barnabas, few knowing better how to use law and gospel, without either opposing or confounding them. For converse and for all things useful to the edifying of the church of God, what might Cambuslang testify of him? what might Edinburgh and adjacent places, where, after his ejection from Cambuslang, he lived and labour ed ? what might Rotterdam say, where, for so many years he lived a burning and a shining light ? The sun (continues his biographer) stood still all the time, in which he had no design for God's glory on foot. It is well known, the sun of his life set upon an excellent design, viz. " A Treatise concerning the way of the Holy " Ghost's working on the souls of men, especially after *f conversion, in communion between God and them." He was more than ordinarily successful in his ministerial labours, and had a numerous spiritual progeny, among whom were his two surviving sons. As he was truly religious, so he was of a peaceable and friendly disposition, often saying, " What a servant the " bond of love is to the unity and purity of faith." Speak ing of the differences of brethren in this city, [London] he thus expressed himself: " I am amazed to see good I' men thus tear one another in the dark. Nor can I " understand 72 FLEMING. " understand how they should have grace in due exercise, ." who value their particular designs above the interest of *' the catholic church, and who confine religion to their " own notions and models." To one that complained of reproaches from pretended friends, his answer was : "To " me to be judged of man and of man's judgment is a " small thing. I bless God, I value not my own name, " but God's only. I do confess, when men wound the " credit of the gospel through me, then it is hard to bear " up." Nor should it be forgotten what he said to his dear friend, and spiritual son, of this city, Dr. D. H. " I " bless God, in fifteen years time I have not given any " man's credit a thrust behind his back : But when I " had grounds to speak well of any man, 1 have done so denial. At the latter end Of the year 1 648, he had leave given him to make a visit to his father at Whitehall, with whom he staid some time ; there he was January 30th, when King Charles was beheaded, and, with a very sad heart, he saw that tragical blow given. ^ In the year 1651, he took his bachelor of art's degree ; and he hath recorded the goodness of God, in raising him up friends, who helped him out in the expences. Such kindnesses have a peculiar sweetness in them to a good man, who sees and receives them, as the kindness of God, and as tokens of his love. In December 1652, he proceeded master of arts, and m January following preached his first sermon at South- Hinksey, near Oxford, on John viii. 34. Whosoever com- •mitteth sin, is the servant of sin. On this occasion he writes in his Diary, what was the breathing of his heart towards God : " The Lord make use of me, as an instrument " of his glory, and his church's good, in this high and " holy calling!" His great parts and improvements, notwithstanding his extraordinary modesty and humility, had made him so well known in the university, that, at the following act in July 1653, he was chosen, out of all the masters of that year, to be junior of the Act, that is, to answer the phi losophy-questions in vesperiis, which he did with very great applause. He noted of some pious young men, that, before they removed from the university into the country, they kept a day of fasting and humiliation for the sins they had been guilty of in that place and state. And in the visits he made afterwards to the university, he inserts into his book, as no doubt God did into his. — " A tear dropt " over my university sins.'''' To this testimony of his son, we may add that of another great divine. ' Mr. Henry (says Dr. Bates) was ' dedicated to the service of God by his mother in his ' tender age. His first love and desires (when he was ca- ' pable of making a judicious choice) were set upon God.' In the year 1653, soon after he had taken his master's1 degree, he was called to assist in the cure of Worthenbury parish, by the river Dee in Flintshire, under the patronage of Mr. Puleston, a serjeant at law. Mr. Henry gives a very amiable character of this gentleman and his lady, and mentions, with great gratitude, his particular obli gations P. HENRY. 79 gallons to them. Here, by his close and practical preach ing, he was made exceedingly useful, and wrought under God a wonderful change in his parish, which before was esteemed one of the most loose and profane places in all that country. We must not omit, that, in the latter part of his time at Oxford, as one grown weary of that which, he used to say, he found " little to his purpose," he em ployed his time mostly in searching the Scriptures, and collecting useful Scripture-observations, which be made very familiar to him, and with which he was thoroughly furnished for this good work. He interleaved a Bible, in which he wrote short notes upon texts of Scripture as they occurred. He would often, say, " I read other " books, that I may be the better able to understand the " Scripture." It was a stock of Scripture-knowledge that he set up with, and with that he traded to good advantage. He continued for some years in the family of Mr; Puleston, where he laid out himself very much for their spiritual good, and even for the meanest of the servants, by catechizing, repeating the sermons, and personal instruc tion ; and he had very much comfort in the countenance and conversation of the judge and his lady. Yet he com plains sometimes in his Diary of the snares and tempta tions that he found in his way there, especially because some of the branches of the family, who did not patrizare, [or resemble the heads of it] were uneasy at his being there, which made him willing to remove to a house of his own, which when Judge Puleston perceived, he in the year ,1657, out of his great kindness to him, built him a very handsome house in Worthenbury, and settled it upon him by lease, bearing date March 6th, 1657, for three score years, if he should so long continue minister at Worthenbury, and not accept of better preferment; In the year 1659, he was, by a writing of Judge Puleston, col lated and nominated to the church of Worthenbury, and (the powers that then were, having so appointed} he had an approbation thereof from the commissioners for appro bation of public preachers. Being thus settled at Worthenbury, his next care was about his ordination to the work of the ministry, to which he would see his call very clear, before he solemnly de voted himself to it. And though afterwards, on re flection, (especially when he was silenced) it was some trouble to him that he had so long deferred to be ordain ed, 80 P. HENRY. ed, yet, as the times then were, there was something of a reason for it. The way and manner of his ordination was according to the known directory of the assembly of divines, and the common usage of the presbyterians. He applied himself diligently to his work at Worthen bury. The sphere was narrow, and too narrow for such a burning and shining light : There were but forty com municants in that parish, when he first set up the ordi nance of the Lord's Supper ; and they were never doub led : Yet he had such low thoughts of himself, that he not only never sought for a larger sphere, but would never hearken to any overtures of that kind made to him : And withal, he had such high thoughts of his work, and of the worth of souls, that he laid out himself with as much diligence and vigour here, as if he had had the over-sight of the greatest and most considerable parish in the country. His carriage towards the people'of his parish was very exemplary ; condescending to the meanest, and conver sing familiarly with them ; bearing with the infirmities of the weak, and becoming all things to all men. He was exceed ing tender of giving offence, or occasion of grief to any body, minding himself in his Diary upon such occasions, that the wisdom that is from above, is pure, and peaceable, and gentle, &c. Yet he plainly and faithfully reproved what he saw amiss in any, and would not suffer sin upon them ; mourning also for that, which he could not mend. He was about eight years from first to last at Worthen bury, and his labour was not altogether in vain. He had not been long at Worthenbury, but he began to be taken notice of by the neighbouring ministers, as likely to be a considerable man. Though his extraordinary modesty and humility (which even in his youth he was remark able for) made him to sit down with silence in the lowest room, and to say as Elihu, Days shall speak, yet his emi nent gifts and graces could not long be hid. He was often called upon to preach the week-day lectures, which were set up plentifully, and diligently at tended upon in those parts, and his labours were generally very acceptable and successful. The general opinion fas tened upon him the epithet of Heavenly Henry, by which title he was commonly known all the country over : And his advice was sought for by many neighbouring ministers and Christians ; for he was one of those that found favour and good understanding in the sight of God and man. He was noted at his first setting out (as I have been told by one who was then intimately acquainted with him, and P. HENRY. «1 and with his character and conversation) for three things: 1. Great piety and devotion, and a mighty savour of god liness in all his converse. 2. Great industry in the pur- Suit of useful knowledge; he was particularly observed to fee very inquisitive, when he was among the aged and in telligent,, hearing them, and asking them questions; a good example to young men, especially young ministers. 3. Great self-denial, self-diffidence, and self-abasement; this eminent humility put a lustre upon all his other graces. This character of him reminds me of a passage I have sometimes heard him speak of, as a check to the forwardness and confidence of young men : That, once at a meeting of ministers, a question of moment was started, to be debated among them ; upon the first proposal of it, a confident young man shoots his bolt presently, ' Truly ' (said he) I hold it so.' ' You hold, sir !' (answered a grave minister,) ' It becomes you to hold your peace.'- He was ever forward to promote unanimity among Christians, and lamented the unhappy dissensions that pre vailed in his time. He used to -observe, " That it is not " so much the difference of opinion, that doth us the mis- " chief (for we may as soon expect all the clocks in the " town to strike together, as to see all good people of a " mind in every thing on this side heaven) but the mis- " management of that difference." In March 1658-9, he was very much solicited to leave Worthenbury, and to accept of the vicarage of Wrexham, which was a place that he had both a great interest in, and a great kindness for, but he could not see his call clear from Worthenbury; so he declined it. The same year he had an offer made him of a considerable living near Lon don ; but he was not of them that are given to change, nor did he consult with flesh and blood, nor seek great things for himselfi He was a hearty well wisher to the return of the king, April A. D. 1660, and was much affected with the mercy of it. " While others rejoice carnally, (saith he) Lord, " help thy people to rejoice spiritually, in our public na- " tional mercies." 'Twas upon that occasion that Mr. Baxter preached his sermon of Right Rejoicing, on Luke X..20. But he and others soon saw a cause to rejoice with trembling, and to sing both of mercy and judgment ; for about that time he hath this melancholy remark : " Re- " ligion loses ground exceedingly, and profaneness gets " it : Help, Lord !" VQL. IV. G As 82* P. HENRY. As to the subjects he preached upon, he did not use to dwell long upon a text. Better one sermon upon many texts, (viz. many scriptures opened and applied) than many sermons upon one text. He removed from Emeral, to the house at Worthen bury, which the Judge had built for him, in February 1658-9, and then had one of his sisters with him to keep his house. Providence, having thus brought him into a house of his own, soon after provided a help meet for him. After long agitation, and some discouragement and oppo sition from the father, April 26, 1660, he married Katha rine, the only daughter and heiress of Mr. Daniel Matthews, of Broad-Oak, in the township of Iscoyd, in Flintshire, (but in the parish of Malpus, which is in Cheshire, and about two miles distant from Whitchurch, a considerable market town in Shropshire.) Mr. Matthews was a gentle man of a very competent estate ; such a one as King James I. used to say was the happiest lot of all others, which set a man below the office of a justice of peace, and above that of a petty constable. This was his only child: Very fair and honourable overtures had been made for her disposal ; but it pleased God so to order events, and to over-rule the spirits of those concerned, that she was re served to be a blessing to this good man, in things per taining both to life and godliness. Such was his house, and such the vine which God graciously planted by the side of his house. By her God gave, him six children, all born within less than eight years : The two eldest were sons, John and Matthew ; the other four were daughters, Sarah, Katharine, Eleanor, and Anne. His eldest son John died of the measles in the sixth year of his age, and the rest were in mercy continued tp him. The Lord haying built him up into a family, he was careful and faithful in making good his solemn vow at his ordination, that he and his house would serve the Lord. He would often say, " That we are really that, which " we are relatively." It is not so much what we are at church, as what we are in our families. Religion, in the power of it, will be family-religion. He brought Up his children in the fear of God, with a great deal of care and tenderness, and did by his practice, as well as upon all occasions in discourses, condemn the indiscretion of those parents who are partial in their affections to their chil dren, making a difference between them, which he ob served, often proved of ill consequence in families, and lay a foundation of envy, contempt and discord, which turns to P. HENR Y. 83 to their shame and ruin. His carriage towards his chil dren was with great mildness and gentleness, as one who desired rather to be loved than feared by them. He was careful not to provoke them to wrath, nor to discourage them, as he was to bring them up in the nurture and ad monition of the Lord. He ruled indeed, and kept up his authority, but it was with wisdom and love, and not with a high hand. He drew up a short form of the baptis mal covenant, for the use of his children ; which was as follows: " I take God the Father to be my chiefest " good, and highest end. I take God the Son to be my " Prince and Saviour. I take God the Holy Ghost to " be my sanctifier, teacher, guide, and comforter. I take " the word of God to be my rule in all my actions ; and " the people of God to be my people in all conditions. " I do likewise devote and dedicate unto the Lord my " whole self, all I am/ all I have, and all I can do. And " this I do, deliberately, sincerely, freely, and for ever." This he taught his children, and they each of them so lemnly repeated it every Lord's day in the evening, after they were catechised ; he putting his amen to it, and sometimes adding, " So say, attd so do ; and you are " made for ever." This moderate and excellent man was much perplexed about his ministerial duty at the restoration. Matters were unexpectedly and unwisely carried with a high band against the late ecclesiastical establishment ; whereas it is probable, a spirit of wisdom and moderation at that time in church-rulers would have left the number of noncon formists too small to make them objects of severe laws and persecutions. Had some of our leading men in the esta blishment conducted the matter with the Christian meek ness that becomes their order, instead of Carnal resent ments, it would have put their own characters in a much' higher point of view, and have afforded a blessing to the! nation, the loss of which every good man of every per suasion may justly deplore. The grand question, first set on foot, was* whether to conform or no? Mr. Henry used all means possible to satisfy himself concerning it, by reading and discourse, particularly at Oxford with Dr. Fell, (afterwards Bishop of Oxford) but in vain; his dissatisfaction remained; " How- " ever (saith he) I dare not judge those that do conform, " for who am I, that I should judge my brother ?" In. September, A. D. 1660, Mr. Fogg and Mr. Steel and Mr. Henry, were presented at Flint assizes for not read ing 84 P: HENRY, ing the common prayer, though as yet it was not enjoin* ed ; but there were some busy people, that would out run the law. They entered their appearance, and it fell ; for soon after the king's declaration, touching ecclesiasti cal affairs, came out, which promised liberty, arid gave hopes of settlement ; but, the spring assizes afterwards, Mr. Steel and Mr. Henry were presented again. On this he writes : " Be merciful to me, O God, for man would " swallow me up. The Lord shew me what he would " have me to do ; for I am afraid of nothing but sin." In November, A. D. 1660, he took the oath of alle giance at Orton,before Sir Thomas Hanmer,and two other justices; of which he hath left a memorandum in his Diary, with this added, " God so help me, as I purpose " in my heart to do accordingly :¦" Nor could any more conscientiously observe that oath of God than he did, nor more sincerely promote the ends of it. He preached sometimes occasionally in several neigh-* bouring places, till Bartholomew-Day, A. D. 1662, " the " day (saith he) which our sins have made one of the sad- " dest days to England, since the death of Edward VL " but even this for good, though we know not how " nor which way." He was invited to preach at Bangor on this sad Bartholomew-Day, and prepared a sermon on John vii. 37. In the last day, that great day of the feast, &cv but was prevented from preaching it ; and was loth to strive against so strong a stream. The re-ordination, which was insisted upon, andrenun^ elation of his former ministry, was the first and great bar to his conformity, and which he mostly insisted on. He would sometimes say, " That for a presbyter to be or- " dained a deacon, is at the best, suscipere gradum Simeo- " nw." One thing which he comforted himself with in his nonconformity was, that, as to matters of doubtful disputation touching church-government, ceremonies, and the like, he was unsworn either on one side or the other, and so was free from those snares and bands in which so many found themselves both tied up from what they would do, and entangled that they knew not what to do* Had the moderation, whieh now obtains in the establish ment, been then exercised, such men as Mr. Henry, how ever he might have disliked some non-essentials, had never been forced out of it. The true way of reducing dis sensions, unless they are in arms, is to let them alone. If they are of man, they will soon crumble away of themselves. His P. HENRY. 85 His moderation in his nonconformity was very exem-. plary and eminent, and had a great influence upon many, to keep them from running into uncharitable and schis- matical separations, which, upon all occasions, he bore his testimony against, and was very industrious to stem the tide of. In church-government, that which he desir ed and wished for, was Archbishop Usher's reduction of episcopacy. He thought it lawful to join in the common prayer in public assemblies, and practised accordingly, and endeavoured to satisfy others concerning it. The spirit he was of, was such as made him much afraid of extremes, and solicitous for nothing more than to maintain and keep Christian love and charity among professors. At Michaelmas, A. D. 1662, he quite left Worthenbury, and came with his family to Broad-Oak, just nine years from his first coming\ into the country. Being cast by Providence into this new place and state of life, his care and prayer was, that he might have " Grace and wis- " dom to manage it to the glory of God, which (saith " he) is my chief end." Within three weeks after his coming hither, his second son, Matthew, was born, which we mention, for the sake of the remark he has upon it : " We have no reason (saith he) to call him Benoni; I " wish we had not to call him Ichabod." For several years after he came to live at Broad-Oak, he went con stantly every Lord's day to the public worship, with his family, at Whitehall chapel, (which is near) if there were any supply there, as sometimes there was from Malpas ; and if none, then to Tylstock, (where Mr. Zachary Tho mas continued for about half a year) and when that string failed, usually to Whitchurch, and did not preach for a great while, unless occasionally, when he visited his friends, or to his own family on a Lord's day, when the weather hindered them from going abroad. In October, A. D. 1663, Mr. Steel and Mr. Henry and some other of their friends, were taken up and brought prisoners to Hanmer, under pretence of some plot said to be on foot against the government ; and there they were kept under confinement some days, on which he writes : " It is sweet being in any condition with a clear con- " science : The sting of death is sin, and so of imprison- " ment also. It is the first time (saith he) I was ever a " prisoner, but perhaps may not be the last. We felt no " hardship, but we know not what we may." They were after some days examined by the deputy lieutenants, fharged with they knew not what, and so dismissed; find ing 86 P. H E N R Y. ing verbal security to be forth-coming upon twenty-four hours' notice, whenever they should be called for. Mr. Henry returned to his house with thanksgivings to God, and a hearty prayer for his enemies, that God would for give them. The very next day after they were released, a great man in the country, at whose instigation they were brought into that trouble, died (as was said) of a drunken surfeit. So that a man shall say, Verily there is a God that judgeth in the earth. In the beginning of the year 1665, when the act for a royal aid to his majesty of two millions and a half came put, the commissioners for Flintshire were pleased to nominate Mr. Henry sub-collector of the said tax for the township of Iscoyd, and Mr. Steel for the township of Hanmer. They intended thereby to put an affront and disparagement upon their ministry, and to shew that they looked upon them but as laymen. His note upon it is : " It is not a sin which they put us upon, but it is a cross, " and a cross in our way, and therefore to be taken up " and borne with patience. When I had better work to " do, I was wanting in my duty about it; and now this " is put upon me, the Lord is righteous." He procured the gathering of it by others, only took account of it, and ^aw it duly done. In the beginning of the year 1667, he removed with his family to Whitchurch, and dwelt there above a year, except about a quarter of a year about harvest, he re turned again to Broad-Oak. His removal to Whitchurch was partly to quiet his adversaries, who were ready to quarrel with him upon the Five-mile Act, and partly for the benefit of the school there for his children. While he lived at Whitchurch, he attended constantly upon the public ministry, and there (as ever) he was care ful to come at the beginning of the service, which he at tended upon with reverence and devotion, standing all the time, even while the chapters were read. In the even ing of the Lord's day, he spent some time in instructing his family, to which a few of his friends and neighbours in the town would sometimes come in ; and it was a little gleam of opportunity, but very short, for (as he notes) he was offended at it, who should rather have rejoiced, if by any means the work might be carried on in his people's souls. Notwithstanding the severity of the laws then enforced against the nonconformists, Mr. Henry, in A. D. 1669, preached in some very private meetings, and (what was a proof P. HENRY. 87 proof of his truly Christian temper) exhorted constantly to patience and resignation under the sufferings imposed, insisting upon this point : " That it is the character of " the people of God, that they are a quiet people in the " land." This quietness he described to be an orderly, peaceable subjection to governors and government in the Lord. We must maintain a reverend esteem of them, and of their authority, in opposition to despising dominion, 2 Peter ii. 10. We must be meek under severe com mands and burdensome impositions, not murmuring and complaining, as the Israelites against Moses and Aaron, but take them up as our cross in our way, and bear them, as we do foul weather. We, must not speak evil of dig nities, Jude 8. nor revile the gods or great ones, Exod. xxii. 28. Paul checked himself for this, Acts xxiii. 5. ' I did not consider it : if I had, I would not have said ' so.' We must not traduce their government, as Absa lom did David's, 2 Sam. xv. 3. Great care is to be taken how we speak of the faults of any, especially of rulers, Eccles. x. 20. The people of God do make the word of God their rule, and by that they are taught, 1. That magistracy is God^s ordinance, and magistrates God's ministers ; that by him Kings reign, and the powers that be are ordained of him. 2. That they, as well as others, are to have their dues, honour, and fear, and tribute. 3. That their lawful commands are to be obeyed, and that readily, and cheerfully, 1 Tim. iii. 1. 4. That the penalties inflicted for not obeying unlaw ful commands, are patiently to be undergone. This is the rule, and as many as walk according to this rule, peace shall be upon them, and that there be no danger of their unpeaceableness. They are taught to pray for kings, and all in authority, 1 Tim. ii. 1, 2. And God forbid we should do otherwise; yea, though they persecute, Jer. xxix. vii. Peaceable prayers bespeak a peaceable people, Psal. cix. 4. If some, professing religion, have been un quiet, their unquietness hath given the lie to their pro fession, Jude 8, 11, 12. Quietness is our badge, Col. iii. 12. — it will be our strength, Isa. xxx. 15.— our re joicing in the day of evil, Jer. xviii. 18.- — it is pleasing to God, 1 Tim. ii. 2, 3. — it may work upon others, 1 Peter ii. 12, 13- The means he prescribed for keeping us quiet, were to get our hearts filled with the know ledge of these two things: 1. That the Kingdom of Christ is sot of this world, John xviii. 36. Many have thought otherwise: and it hath made them unquiet. 2. That 88 P. HENRY. That the wrath of men worketh not the righteousness of God, James i. 20. He needs not our sin to bring to pass his own counsel. We must mortify unquietness in the causes of it, James iv. 1 . We must always remember the oath of God, Eccles. viii. 2. The oath of allegiance is an oath of quietness, and we must beware of the company and converse of those that are unquiet, Prov. xxii; 24, 25. Though deceitful matters be devised, yet we must be quiet still ; nay, be so much the more quiet. All that knew Mr. Henry, knew very well, that his practice, all his days, was consonant to these his settled principles. In May 1668, he returned again with his family from Whitchurch to Broad-Oak, which, through the goodness of God, continued his settled home, without any re moval from it, till he was removed to his long home,' above twenty-eight years after. The edge of the Five- mile Act now began a little to abate, at least in that coun try ; and he was desirous to be more useful to the neigh-i bours, among whom God had given him an estate, than he could be at a distance from them, by relieving the poor, employing the labourers, and especially instructing the ignorant, and helping as many as he could to heaven. He was very affable and easy of access, and admirably patient in hearing every one's complaint, which he would answer with so much prudence and mildness, and give such apt advice, that many a time to consult with him was to ask counsel at Abel, arid so to end the matter. He observed, in almost all quarrels that happened, that there was a fault on both sides; and that generally they Were most in the fault, that were most forward and clamorous in their complaints. One making her moan to him of a bad husband she had, that, in this and the other instance, was unkind ; and ' Sir, (said she, after a ' long complaint, which he patiently heard) what would you have me to do now ?'¦ — " Why, truly, (said he) I " would have you to go home, and be a better wife to " him, and then you'll find that he will be a better hus- " band to you." Labouring to persuade one to forgive an injury that was done him, he urged this: \l Are you " not a Christian?" and followed that argument so close, that at last he prevailed. Four rules he sometimes gave to be observed in our converse with men : " Have communion with few : Be f familiar with one: Deal justly with all; Speak evil of *? none." I have, t P. HENRY. 89 I have heard him often blame those, whose irregular zeal, in the profession of religion, makes them to neglect their worldly business, and let the house drop through, the affairs of which the good man will order with discretion. And he would tell sometimes of a religious woman, whose fault it was, and how she was convinced of it, by means of an intelligent godly neighbour, who coming into the house, and finding the good woman, far in the day, in her closet, and the house sadly neglected, children not tended, servants not minded ; ' What (said he) is there no fear ' of Gon in this house ?' which much started and af fected the good woman, that overheard him. His greatest care about the things of this world, was how to do good with what he had, and to devise liberal things ; desiring to make no other accession to his estate, but only that blessing which attends beneficence. He did firmly believe (and it should seem few do) that what is given to the poor is lent to the Lord, who will pay it again, in kind or in kindness, and that religion and piety is un doubtedly the best friend to outward prosperity, and he found it so ; for it pleased God abundantly to bless his habitation, and to make a hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he had : And though he did not delight himself in the abundance of wealth, yet (which ! is far better) he delighted himself in the abundance of peace, Psalm xxxvii. 2. All that he had and did, observably prospered ; so that the country oftentimes took notice of it, and called his family, a family which the Lord had blessed. And his comforts of that kind were (as he used to pray they might be) oil to the wheels of his obedience ; and in the use of these things he served the Lord his God with joyfulness and gladness of heart, yet still mindful of, an4 grieved for the afflictions of Joseph. He would say some-, times, when in the midst of the comforts of this life, as a ^ood man said, " All this and heaven too ! surely then ' we serve a good Master !" Thus did the Lord bless dm, and make him a blessing ; and this abundant grace, hrough the, thanksgiving of many, redounded to the glory of jrOD. In the time of trouble and distress, by the Conventicle Vet, in 1670, he kept private, and stirred but little abroad, is loth to offend those that were in power, and judging l prudence to gather in hi? sails, when the storm was vio- int : He then observed, as that which he was troubled at, i That there was a great deal of precious time lost among | " professors, 90 P. HENRY. "professors, when they came together, in discoursing " of their adventures, and their escapes, which ne feared " tended more to set up self, than to give glory to " God : Also in telling, how they got together, and that " such a one preached, but little inquiring what spiritual " benefit and advantage was reaped by it, and that we are " apt to make the circumstances of our religious services " more the matter of our discburse, than the substance of " them." He took all occasions to mention this as his settled principle : " In those things wherein all the people " of God are agreed, I will spend my zeal ; and wherein " they differ, I will endeavour to walk according to the " light that God hath given me, and charitably believe, " that others do so too." Whatever lectures were set up in the country round, it was still desired that Mr.fHenry would begin them, (which was thought no small encouragement to those who were to carry them on) and very happy he was, both in the choice and in the Management of his subjects at such op portunities, seeking to find out acceptable words. Take one specimen of his address, when he began a lecture with a sermon, on Heb. xii. 15. " I assure you (saith he) and " God is my witness, I am not come to preach either " sedition against the peace of the state, or schism against ' " the peace of the church, by persuading you to this or! " to that opinion or party; but as a minister of Christ, . " that hath received mercy from the Lord, to desire to " be faithful. My errand is to exhort you to all possible " seriousness in the great business of your eternal salva- " tion, according to my text, which if the Lord will " make as profitable to you, as it is material, and of " Weight in itself, neither you nor I shall have cause to " repent our coming hither, and our meeting to-day ;i " looking diligently, lest any of you fail of the grace of God. " If it were the last sermon I were to preach, I should " not know how to take my aim better to do you good.1] In doing of this work, he often said, that he looked upon himself but as an assistant to the parish ministers, iii promoting the common interests of Christ's kingdom, and the common salvation of precious souls, by the explication and application of those great truths, wherein we are all agreed. And he would compare the case to that irj Hezekiah's time, when, the Levites helped the priests to kill the sacrifice, which was something of an irregularityi but the exigence of affairs called for it ; the priests beinj too few, and some of them not so. careful, as they shouli haw P. HENRY. & have been, to sanctify themselves ; see 2 Chron. xxix. 34. And wherever he preached, he usually prayed for the parish minister, and for a blessing upon his ministry. He has often said, how well pleased he was, when, after he had preached at Oswestry, he went to visit the minister of the, place, Mr. Edwards, a worthy good man, and told him, " He had been sowing a handful of seed among his " people," and had this answer : ' That's well ; the ' Lord prosper your seed and mine too ; there's need * enough of us both.' Whenever he preached of moral duties, he would al ways have something of Christ in his sermon ; either his life, as the great pattern of the duty ; or his love, as the great motive to it ; or his meeit, as making atonement for the neglect of it. Some have wondered to see how courteously and friendly he would speak to such as had been any way injurious to him, when he met with them ; being as industrious to discover his forgiving of wrongs, as some are to discover their resentments of them. It was said of Archbishop Cranmer, that the way to have him one's friend, was to do him an unkindness ; and I am sure, it might be said of Mr. Henry, that doing him a diskindness would not make him one's enemy. This reminds me of an exemplary pas sage, concerning his worthy friend, Mr. EdWard Lawrence, once going, with some of his sons, by the house of a gen tleman that had been injurious to him, he gave a charge to his sons to this purpose : " That they should never " think or speak amiss of that gentleman, for the sake " of any thing he had done against him ; but whenever " they went by his house, should lift up their hearts in " prayer to God for him and his family." It was not without some fear and trembling, that Mr. Henry received the tidings of the Prince of Orange's land ing, in November 1688, as being somewhat in the dark concerning the clearness of his call, and dreading what might be the consequence of it. He used to say, that Give peace in our time, O Lord, was a prayer which he could heartily set his amen to. But when secret thing* were brought to light, and a regular course was taken to fill the vacant throne with such a king and such a queen, none rejoiced in it more heartily than he did. He cele-r brated the national thanksgiving for that great deliverance with an excellent sermon on that text, Rom. viii. 31. What shall we then say to these things ? If God be for us, who $an be against us ? Soon 92 P. HENRY. Soon after that happy settlement, there were overturet made towards a comprehension of the moderate dissenters with the church of England,, which Mr. Henry most hear tily desired and wished for, if it could be had upon any terms less than sinning against his conscience ; for never was any more averse to that which looked like a sepa ration than he was, if he could possibly have helped it, salva conscientia. His prayers were constant, and his en deavours, as he had opportunity, that there might be some healing methods found out and agreed upon. In June 1689, the Act of Indulgence passed, which not only tolerated, but allowed the dissenters' meetings, and took them under the protection of the gpvernment. Soon after which, though he never in the least changed his judgment as to the lawfulness of joining in the common- prayer, but was still ready to do it occasionally, yet the ministers that preached at Whitewell-chapel, being often uncertain in their coming, which kept his meeting at Broad Oak at like uncertainties, to the frequent disap pointment of his hearers that came from far ; he was at last prevailed with to preach at public time every Lord's day, which he continued to do as long as he lived, much to his own satisfaction, and to the satisfaction of his friends, Sometimes he had such with him, as had gone through their course 6f learning at private academies, and desired to spend some time in his family before their entrance upon the ministry, that they might have the benefit, not only of his public and family instructions, but of his learned and pious conversation ; in which, as he was thoroughly furnished for every good word and work, so1 he was very free and communicative. The great thing, which he used to press upon those who intended the mi nistry, was to study the Scriptures, and make them fami liar. Bonus texluarius est bonus theologus, was a maxim he often minded them of. For this purpose he recommended to them the study of the Hebrew, that they might be able to search the Scriptures in the original. He also advised them to the use of an interleaved Bible, wherein to insert such expositions and observations, as occur occasionally in sermons or other books ; which, he would sav, are more happy and considerable sometimes, than those that are found in the professed commentators. In the time of his health he made death very familiar to himself, by frequent and pleasing thoughts and medi tations of it ; and endeavoured to make it so to his friends, P. HENRY. 93 Vy sneaking often of it. His letters and discourses had still something or other which spoke his constant expecta tions of death ; thus did he learn to die daily; And it is hard to say, whether it was more easy for him to speak, or uneasy to his friends to hear him speak, of leaving the world. This reminds me of a passage I was told by a worthy Scots minister, Mr. Patrick Adair, that visiting the famous Mr. Durham of Glasgow in his last sickness, which was long and lingering, he said to him, ' Sir, I ' hope you have so set all in order, that you have nothing. * else to do but to die.' — ' I bless God (said Mr. Dur- ' ham) I have not had that to do neither, these many ' years.' Such is the comfort of dying daily, when we come to die indeed. Mr. Henry's constitution was but tender, and yet, by the blessing of Gob upon his great temperance, and care of his diet, and moderate exercise by walking in the air, he did for many years enjoy a good measure of health, which he used to call " the sugar that sweetens all tem-< " poral mercies, for which, therefore, we ought to be " very thankful, and of which we ought to be very care- " ful." He had sometimes violent fits of the cholic, which would be very afflictive for the time. Towards his lat- ter end, he was distressed sometimes with a pain, which his doctor thought might arise from a stone in his kid neys. Being once upon a recovery from an ill fit of that pain, he said to one of'his friends that asked him how he did, he hoped " .by the grace of God, he should now " be able to give one blow more to the devil's kingdom ;" and often professed he did not " desire to live a day longer " than he might do God some service." He said to ano ther, when he perceived himself recovering: " Well, I " thought I had been putting into the harbour} but find " I must put out to sea again." He was sometimes suddenly taken with fainting fits, Which when he recovered from, he would say, " dying is " but a little more." When he was in the sixty-third year of his age, which is commonly called the grand cli» macteric, and hath been to many their dying year, and was so to his father ; he numbered the days of it, from August the 24th, 1693, to August the 24th, 1694, when he finished it : And when he concluded it, he thus wrote in his Diary ; " This day finished my commonly dying " year, which I have numbered the days of, and should *' now apply my heart more than ever to heavenly wis- " dom." He was much pleased with that expression of our 94 P. HENRY. our English liturgy, in the office of burial, and frequently used it : " In the midst of life, we are in death." A little before his sickness and death, being summer time, he had several of his children, and his children'*' children, about him at Broad-Oak, with whom he was much refreshed, and very cheerful ; but ever and anon spoke of the fashion he was in, as passing away ; and often told them, he should be there but a while to bid them welcome. And he was observed frequently in pray er, to beg of God, that " he would make us ready for1 " that, which would come certainly, and might come " suddenly." One asking him how he did, he answered, " I find the chips fly off apace, the tree will be down " shortly." The Sabbath but one before he died, being, in the course of his exposition, come to that difficult part of Scripture, the fortieth of Ezekiel, and the following chapters, he said' he would endeavour to explain those prophecies to them ; and added, " If I do not dp it now, I never shall:" And he observed, that the only prophetical sermon which our , Lord Jesus preached, was, but a few days before he died. This many of his hearers not only reflected upon after- , wards, but took notice of at that time, with a concern;1 as having something in it more than ordinary. On the Lord's Day, June 21, 1696, he went through the work of the day with his usual vigour and liveliness. He was then preaching over the first chapter of St. Peter's secondi epistle, and was that day on those words, add to your faith' virtue, verse 5th. He took virtue for Christian courage'' and resolution in the exercise of faith ; and the last thing' he mentioned, in which Christians have need of courage/ is in dying ; " for (as he often used to say) it is a serious " thing to die ; and to die is a work by itself." On the Tuesday following, June 23, he rose at sii o'clock, according to his custom, after a better night's sleep than ordinary, and in usual health. Between seven and eight o'clock he performed family worship, according to his manner ; he expounded, very largely, the former half of the 104th Psalm, and sung it ; but he was some what shorter in prayer than he used to be, being then (as it was thought) taken ill. Blessed is that servant whom, his Lord, when he comes, shall find so doing. Immediately , after prayer he retired to his chamber, not saying any thing of his illness, but was soon after found upon his bed in great extremity of pain, in his back, breast, and" bowels ; it seemed to be a complicated fit of the stone and P. H E N R Y. 95 and acholic together, with very great extremity. The means that had been used to give him relief in his illness, were altogether ineffectual : He had, not the least inter mission or remission of pain, neither up nor in bed. He had said sometimes, " That God's Israel may find Jor- " dan rough ; but there's no remedy, they must go through " it to Canaan;" and he would tell of a good man that used to say, ' He was not so much afraid of death as of 4 dying.' We know they are not the godly people, part of the description of whose condition it is, that there are no bands in their death, and yet their end is peace, and their death gain, and they have hope in it. It was two or three hours after he was taken ill, before he would suffer a messenger to be sent to Chester for his son, and for the doctor, saying, " He should either be " better or dead before they could come:" But at last he said, as the prophet did to his importunate friends, Send* About eight o'clock. that evening they came, and found him in the same extremity of pain, which he had been in all the day. And nature, .being before spent with his con stant and indefatigable labours, now sunk under its bur den, and was quite unable to grapple with so many hours* incessant pain. What further means were then used proved fruitless. He apprehended himself going apace,i and said to his son when he came in, " O son, you are " welcome to a dying father : I am now ready to be of- " fered, and the time of my departure' is at hand." His pain continued vexy acute, but he bad peace within. '< I " am tormented, (said he once;) but, blessed be God, " not in this flame ;" and, soon after, " I am all on fire," (when at the same time his extreme parts were cold), but. he presently added, , " Blessed be God, it is not the fire " of hell." Towards ten or eleven o'clock that night, his pulse and ¦sight began to fail ; of the latter he himself took notice, and inferred from it the near approach of his dissolution. He took an affectionate farewell of his dear yoke-fellow, with a thousand. thanks. for all her love, and care, and ten derness, left a blessing for all his dear children, and their dear yoke-fellows and little ones that were absent. He said to his son, who sat under his head, " Son,, the Lord " bless you, and grant that you may do worthily in your "generation, and be more serviceable to the church of God than I have been." Such was his great humility to the last. And when his son replied, ' O Sir, .pray for * me, that I may, but tread in your steps V he answered, " Yea, «< 96 P. HENRY. " Yea, follow peace and holiness ; and then let them say " what they will." — More he would have said to bear* his dying testimony to the way in which he had walked, but nature was spent, and he had not strength to exa press it. His understanding and speech continued almost to the last breath ; and he was still, in his dying agonies, calling Upon God, and committing himself to him. One of the last words he said, when he found himself just ready to1 depart, was, " O death where is thy - — ;" with that his speech faultered, and within a few minutes (after about sixteen hours' illness) he quietly breathed out his precious soul into the embraces of his dear Redeemer, whom he had trusted, and faithfully served in the work of the mi nistry about forty-three years. He departed betwixt twelve and one o'clock in the morning, on June the 24th, Midsummer-Day, A. D. 1696, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. Happy, thrice happy he, to whom such a sud^ den change was no surprize, and who could triumph ovei' death, as an unstrung, disarmed enemy, even when he made so fierce an onset ! He had often spoke of it as his desire, that, if it were the will of God, " he might not " outlive his usefulness ;" and it pleased God to grant him his desire, and to give him a short passage from the pulpit to the kingdom, from the height of his usefulness to receive the recompence of reward. So was it ordered by him, in whose hands our time's are. His body was buried on the 27th of June following iff Whitchurch church, attended with a very great com pany of true mourners from all the country round, even from Chester and Shrewsbury, who followed hisv corpse with many tears. He was averse to all ostentation, and used to say to his relations, " When I am dead, make " but little ado about me : a few will serve to- bring me " to my grave." But his mind in this respect could not be followed. Many testimonies were given of his great worth, and some are recited in his life written more at large by his son, to which we must refer the reader. We will only subjoin to this long account some few sentences of this excellent man which were gathered up from his preaching and conversation, as he himself never published any* thing. Though* Mr/ Henry, (says his great and pious son/ through the excess of his modesty and self-diffidence, never published any of his labours to the world, nor ^ver fitted or prepared any of them for the press ; yet none P. HENRY. 97 none more valued the labours of others, or rejoiced more in them ; nor have I heard any complain less of the mul titude of good books, concerning which he often said, " That store is no sore;" and he was very forward to per suade others to publish; and always expressed a particular pleasure in reading the lives, actions, and sayings of emi nent men, ancient and modern, which he thought the most useful and instructive kind of writings. He was al so a very candid reader of books, not apt to pick quarrels with what he read, especially when the design appeared to be honest; and, when others would find fault, and say this was wanting, and the other amiss, his usual excuse Was, " There is nothing perfect under the sun." 'Twas a saying he frequently used, that " every crea- " ture is that to us, and only that, which God makes it " to be." And another was, " Duty is our's; events are " God's." And another was, " The soul is the man, " and, therefore, that is always best for us, which is best " for our soub." And another was, " The devil cozens " us of all our time, by cozening us of the present time." In his thanksgivings for temporal mercies, he often said, " If the end of one mercy were not the beginning of an- " other, we were undone:" And to encourage to the Work of thanksgiving, he would say, that " new mercies " called for new returns of praise, and then those new " returns will fetch in new mercies." And from Psalm h 23. He that offers praise glorifies me, and ttrhim that orders his conversation aright, — he observed, " That thanksgiv* "ing is good, but thanksliving is better." When he spoke of a good name, he usually described it to be " a name for good things with good people."1 When he spoke of contentment, he used to say, " When " the mind and the condition meet, there is contentment. " Now, in order to that, either the condition must be " brought up to the mind, and that is not only unreason-* " able but impossible; for, as the condition riseth, the " mind riseth with it; or else the mind must be brought " down to the condition, and that is both possible and rea- " sonable." And he observed, " That no cbndition of life " will of itself make a man content, without the grace of " God: for we find Haman discontented in the court; " Ahab discontented on the throne; Adam discontented " in paradise; nay, (and higher we cannot go) the angels " that fell, discontented in heaven itself." He said, there were four things which he would not for the. world have against him: " The word of G-od, his VOL. IV. H " own 98 P. H E N R Y. " own conscience, the prayers of the poor, and the ac- " count of godly ministers. " He that hath a blind conscience which sees nothing, " a dead conscience which feels nothing, and a dumb con- " science which says nothing, is in as miserable a condi- " tion as a man can be in on this side hell." Preaching on 1 Pet. i. 6. If need be, ye are in heaviness, ¦ he shewed what need' the people of God have of afflic tions : '¦ The same need as our bodies have of physic, " that our trees have of pruning, that gold and silver " have of the furnace, that liquors have of being- emptied " from vessel to vessel, that the iron hath of a file, that " the fields have of a hedge, that the child has of a rod." "Preaching on that prayer of Christ for his disciples, John xvii. 21. That they all may be one, which no doubt is an answered prayer, for the Father heard him always: He shewed, " That notwithstanding the many sad divi- " sions that are in the church, yet all the saints, as far as " they are sanctified, are one; one in relation, one flock, " one family, one building, one body, one bread; one by " representation, one in image arid likeness, of one incli- " nation and disposition ; one in their aims, one in their " askings, one in amity and friendship, one in interest, " and one in their inheritance; nay, they are one in "judgment and opinion; though in some things they " differ, yet those things in which they are agreed are " many more, and much more considerable, than those " things in which they differ. They are all of a mind " concerning sin, that it is the worst thing in the world; " concerning Christ, that he is all in all; concerning the " favour of God, that it is better than life ; concerning " the world, that it is vanity; concerning the word of " God, that it is very precious," &c* The * The Monthly Reviewers are pleased to acknowledge the Author's " Catholicism and Charity,1' in passing over the distinctions of Con formity and Non-conformity to the Established C'hnrch; but they affect an inquiry, Why Sicinus is not admitted into this evangelical publication, as well as Calvin or Beza? — The short answer is : Because Socinus, so f.ir from being evangelical, is not allowed to be a Christian, and would hue made therefore a poor figure among our worthies, who loved, adored, »nd trusted in Christ, as their Lord and their God. When these gentle men can point out among the.adherents of the Socini, or among those who dt-ny the es^e'ital divinity of Jesus Christ, any persons who received, oat. of his fulness grace for grace in their lives, and triumphantly glori fied him in their deaths, as almost all those have done, whose names *ve think it our hunour to record in these volumes, then their pretensions to this brothprhood may merit consideration. At present, we think it a duty not to mingle the characters of men, who, when alive, would not P. HENRY. 99 The great thing that he condemned and witnessed against in the church of Rome, was their monopolizing of the church, and condemning all that are not in with their interests, which is so directly contrary to the spirit of the gospel, as nothing can be more. He sometimes said, " I " am too much a catholic to be a Roman catholic." He often expressed himself well pleased with St. Aus tin's healing rule, which, if duly observed, would put an end to all our divisions: " Sit in necessariis unitas, in non 1 ' necessariis libertas, in omnibus charitas." " In necessary " things let there be unity; in things not necessary, li- " berty; and in all things, charily.'''' He observed from Numb. x. 12. " That all our removes " in this world are but from one wilderness to another. " Upon any change that is before us, we are apt to pro- " mise ourselves a Canaan; but we shall be deceived; it " will prove a wilderness." When some zealous people in the country would have him to preach against top-knots, and other vanities in ap parel, he wouid say, " that was none of his business; if he " could persuade people to Christ, the pride, and vanity, " and excess of those things would fall of course;" and yet he had a dislike to vanity and gaiety of dress, and al lowed it not in those that he had influence uponj His rule was, that in such things we must neither be owls nor apes ; not affect singularity, nor affect modishness ; nor (as he used to observe from 1 Pet. iii. 3.) " make the " putting on of apparel our adorning, because- Christians " have better things to adorn themselves with." Speaking of the causes of atheism, he had this observa tion: " That a head full of vain and unprofitable notions, " meeting with a heart full of pride and self-conceited-» " ness, dispose a man directly to be an atheist." A gentlewoman, that upon some unkindness betwixt her and her husband, was parted from him, and lived se parately near a twelvemonth, grew melancholy, and com plained of sin, and the withdrawing of the light of God's countenance, and the want of assurance; he told her, " She must rectify what was amiss between her and her " husband, and return into the way of duty, else it was " in not have wi*ed to be so mingled, but rather would hive followed the Apostle Paul's precept of rejection, and the Apostle John's example of avoiding those who, like Cerinthus, traduce the Divine Nature of their Goo and Saviour. Reputed probity atone i\i!l not afford a sufficient title, for Socrates and many ether heathens had this, but that sort of Christianity which- our excellent Preacher here speaks of, upon John Xvii. '21. 100 P. HENRY. " in vain to expect peace." Her friends were against it; but he said, " he was confident it would prove so." * He said, he had observed concerning himself, " That " he was sometimes the worse for eating, but never for " abstinence ; sometimes the worse for wearing too few "clothes, but never for wearing too many; sometimes " the worse for speaking, but never for keeping silence." " We have three unchangeables to oppose to all other " mutabilities ; an unchangeable covenant, an unchange- " able Gob, and an unchangeable heaven: And. while " these three remain the same, yesterday, to-day, and for " ever, welcome the will of our heavenly Father in all " events that may happen to us; come what will, nothing " can come amiss to us." In a letter to a friend, he said: " As to the accession " lately made to your estate, much good may it do you: " that is, much good may you do with it, which is the " true good of an estate. The Lady Warwick would " thank him that would give her a thousand a-year, and , " tie her up from doing good with it. I rejoice in the " large heart which God hath given you with your large " estate, without which heart the estate would be your " snare." We will only add some sayings of Mr. Edward Lau rence, one of Mr. Philip Henry's friends, which Mr. Matthew Henry has annexed to the life of his father. They are too choice to be omitted. At his meals, Mr. Laurence would often speak of ' using ' God's creatures as his witnesses that he is good ; and ' we cannot conceive how much good our GoD doth ' every moment.' An expression of his great regard to justice, was that common caution he gave his children, ' Tremble to borrow two-pence ;' and of his tenderness and meekness this : ' Make no man angry nor sad.' He often said, ' I adore the wisdom of God, that he hath ' not seen meet to trust me with riches.' When he saw little children playing in the streets, he would often lift up his heart in an ejaculatory prayer to God for them, calling them ' the seed of the next generation.' When his friend chose to ride the back-way into town, he plea santly checked him, telling him, ' that his heart had been ' often refreshed, when he hath looked out of the window, ' and seen a good man go along the streets.' He used to say, ' That Cromwell did more real prejudice to religion ' by his hypocrisy, than King Charles II. did, that never ' pretended to it. As also, ' That he feared the sins of s the land more than the French.' A friend B A I L Y. 101 A friend of his in the country, writing to him not long before he died, desired his thoughts concerning the differ ences among the London dissenters, to which he returned this answer : ' I can say little concerning our divisions, ' which, when some men's judgments and tempers are 1 healed, will be also healed. But, when will that be ? ' They that have most holiness are most peaceable, and ' have most comfort.' This memoir hath been rather prolix; but indeed it was hard to abridge. Much excellent matter hath been ne cessarily omitted; for which we must refer the reader t6 the history of his life drawn by his son, where a pious mind cannot but find delight and edification. JOHN BAILY. JH. E was a Minister of the gospel in New England, but was born February 24, 1643, near Blackburn, in Lanca^ shire, of a very pious mother; who, before he was born, dedicated him unto >the service of God. On the annual return of his birth-day, he used to take notice of the goodness of God towards him, and make humble and useful reflections thereon. ' Once, particu- ' larly, (says his pious biographer) I find him thus enter- ' taining himself: " This is my birth-day ; I am ready " to say of it, as Job doth of his : But I forbear any un- " advised words about it. Only I have done little for " God, and much against him, for which I am sorry." When this day last returned, he thus wrote : " I may say " with a great,sigh, this was my birth-day. O how little " good have I done all this while ! O what reason have I to " stand amazed at the riches of Go n's forbearance! Much " may happen this year ! Lord, carry me through it !" From a child he knew the holy Scriptures, and from a child was wise unto salvation ; giving great and constant evidence of it, by his habitual fear of God, and the prr.cti.ce of daily prayer. There was one very remarkable effect of it. His father was a man of a very licentious conversation; And his mother one day took him while he was a child, and calling the family together, made him to pray with them. His father coming to understand at what rate the child had prayed with the family, it smote his soul with great con-r viction, and proved the beginning of his conversion. This 102 BAIL Y. This hopeful youth was educated under two worthy tutors in classical learning ; and, about the age of twen* ty-two, he entered on the public preaching of the gospel. He began at Chester, but afterwards went over to Ireland, where, by frequent labours, he much injured his health, which was never perfectly recovered. He spent about fourteen years of his life at Limerick, and saw so many seals of his ministry, that he seemed rather to fish with a net, than with a hook, for the kingdom of God. He patiently suffered long and hard imprisonments from .those men, concerning whom a divine of the church of England very truly says, — ' That they were atheists, with ' the inventions of ceremonies'habited like Christians, for ' the service of the devil, to corrupt and destroy true 'Christianity.' He no sooner began to preach, but his fidelity was tried ; and he suffered a hard imprisonment, because in his conscience he could not conform fo the ce remonies of the established church. While he was a young man, he often travelled far by night, in the winter, to enjoy the ordinances of the gospel privately administered in dissenting congregations ; and he was sometimes laid in Lancashire jail for being found there. When he was at Limerick, the attendance of a person of great quality and his lady (who were related to the Duke of Ormond, the Lord Lieutenant of Iivlar.d) upon his ministry, provoked the bishop to complain to the Lord Lieutenant. This gentleman then proffered Mr. Baily, that, if he would conform, he would procure his being made chaplain to the Duke, and'having a deanery immedi ately, and a bishopric upon the first vacancy. But he, from a truly noble, disinterested spirit, disdaining worldly things, when (as he thought) they stood in competition with Christ and the purity of his worship, refused them all. Mr. Baily went on in the exercise of his ministry, not pursuing any factious designs, but endeavouring the real conversion of souls to Christ and holiness. And now, though he was so blameless in his whole conversation, that he was always much beloved wherever he came, yet he suffered another long imprisonment, while the papists in the neighbourhood had all manner of liberty and counte nance. When he was before the judges, he said to them, *' If I had been drinking, and gaming, and carousing at " a tavern with my company, my Lords, I presume that " would not have procured my being thus treated as an ¦' offender. Must praying to God, and preaching of f Christ with a company of Christians, who are as peace* " able BAILY. K)3 " able and inoffensive, and as serviceable to his Majesty " and the government as any of his subjects ; must this be " a greater crime ?" The recorder answered, — ' We will ' have you to know it is a greater crime.' His flock often prayed and fasted for his release, and likewise made humble applications for it to the judges at the assizes ; but no dis charge would be granted him, without security that he should depart the land within a time limited, which was but small. New England, however, now afforded to Mr, Baily an opportunity of labouring nearfourteen years more in the work which he loved above all things in the world, the work of turning the souls of men from darkness to light, from Satan to God. In which^for some time, his younger brother, Mr. Thomas Baily, who went over with him, was his affectionate and beloved assistant till his (Mr. Thomas Baily's) death, which happened on January 21, 1689; and on whose death Mr. John Baily made the following note in his diary : " He died well, which is a great word ; so sweetly, that I never saw the like before." Mr. John Baily was a man of great holiness, and of so tender a conscience, that if he had been at any time but innocently pleasant in the company of his friends, it cost him afterwards some sad reflections, through fear that un warily he hadgrieved the Holy Spirit of Christ. The desire of this holy man was, as himself expressed it, " To get " up to patience under the calamities of life, and to earnest " longings for the life to come." On a certain occasion he thus expressed himself: " O that I might not be of the " number of them that live without love, speak without " feeling, and act without life ! O that God would make " me his humble, and upright, and faithful'servant !" On receiving some valuable presents, he thus wrote in his diary : " I have my wages quickly. But, O that God may not " put me off with a reward here ! O that God may be " my reward*!" The holy word of God was very dear to him, as it is to every holy man ; and as an evidence of his tender atten tion to it, we have the following passage in his diary : — " January 11. I finished the reading of the Bible in my " family as formerly. O, 'tis a dear book ; 'tis always " new. At the beginning of every chapter it is good " to say, Lord, open my eyes, that I may see wonders " out of thy law ! And when we shut it up, to say, I " have seen an end of all perfection, but thy law is ex- " ceeding broad. O how terrible are the threatnings, how " precious are the promises, how serious are the precepts, " how 104 , BAIL Y. " how deep are the prophecies of this book !" In his diary are frequently found such expressions as these : " O that " I may glorify God with all I am and have, even with " all the faculties of my soul, all the members of my " body, and in all the capacities and relations I stand in, " as man, master, minister, husband, kinsman, and neigh- " bour. O, I stand in need both of a justifying Christ " and a sanctifying Christ! When shall I sensibly find " Christ swaying his sceptre m my soul ?" When he removed to a new dwelling, it was his manner to dedicate it to God in prayer. On such a removal he wrote the following passage in his diary : " I could not hut " leave my old house with a prayer in every room of it " for pardoning mercy." When one of his children was to be baptized, he thus wrote: " I spent some time in offer, " ing up myself and my child unto the Lord, and in " taking hold of the covenant for myself and him. It is " actually to be done to-morrow in baptism. I prayed " hard this day, that I might be able in much faith, and " love, and new covenant-obedience to do it to-morrow. " It is not easy, though common, to offer a child unto " God in baptism. O that is a sweet word, — / will be fl a God to thee and to thy seed after thee. No marvel " Abraham fell on his face at the hearing of it." On his parting with the greatest enjoyment he had in this world, he thus wrote in his diary : " If I can'but exchange outT " ward comforts for inward graces, 'tis well enough. 0, " for an heart to glorify God in the fire !" On another occasion he wrote thus : " I did not watch my tongue as " I ought, which cost me much trouble afterwards, and " made me walk heavily. 'Tis a mad thing to sin." On q, like occasion he wrote as follows : " That is a serious " word methinks, in Eph. iv. 30. I have grieved the holy " Spirit by my unedifying communication. O that in " speaking I might administer grace to the hearer ! 0 " that honey and milk were under my tongue continually!" At another time: " O that Jesus Christ would under- " take for me ! If God marvelously prevent not, I shall " lay. down my work. O Lord appear ! O for one saving " sight of the love and loveliness of Jesus Christ ! I wish f ' I could say as my dear tutor Dr. Harrison said, whose *' words were, That he could not live a day without a *' fresh manifestation of God to his soul !" At another time : " I was now supported by the thoughts of a preci- -' ous Jesus. I should for ever sink but for him. When I $* look backward or forward, upward or downward, I " sink, BATES. 105 " sink, I die; but when I look at the sweet Jesus, I live. " I may resolve with Dr. Preston, (O that I could !) and " say, I have often tried God, and now I will trust him. " 'Tis a good resolution : Lord, help me to it !" In his diary, a little before his end, he wrote thus : " I " do more see into the great mystery of our justification " by faith, merely of grace. There is no respect in it to " this or that ; but Jesus Christ having wrought out a " redemption for us, and by his active and passive obedi- " ence procured a sufficient righteousness, and made a " tender of it in the gospel, it becomes mine by my ac- " ceptance' of it, and relying on it alone for salvation. " And shall I not accept of it ? God forbid. I see there " are two things wherein I cannot easily exceed, namely, " in ascribing to the grace, of God, the freeness and " riches of it, man's salvation ; and in ascribing to the " righteousness of Christ, man's justification." His last words were, (speaking of Christ) " 0 what " shall I say ? He is altogether lovely. O, all our praises " of him are poor and low things !" And then added, " His glorious angels are come for me !" Upon the say ing of this, he closed his own eyes on the Lord's Day, about three in the afternoon, October 16th, 1697. WILLIAM BATES, D.D. J. HIS very excellent Scholar and Divine was born in November 1625, and, after a suitable school-educatiou, was sent to Cambridge, where he was admitted of Emanuel College, from which he removed to King's, in 1644. He commenced bachelor of arts in 1647, and, applying him self to the study of divinity, became a distinguished, preacher among the presbyterians. In a course of time, he was appointed vicar of St. Dunstan's in the West, London; and joined with several other divines in preaching a morning-exercise at Cripplegate church. At this exer cise Dr. TiUotson preached, in September 1661, the first sermon which was ever printed by him. Upon the re storation of King Charles II. Mr. Bates was made one of his Majesty's chaplains; and, in the November follow, ing, was admitted, together with Mr. Thomas Jacomb and Mr. Robert Wiide, to the degree of doctor in divinity in the University of Cambridge, by royal mandate. The 106 BATES. king's letter to this jmrpose was dated on the ninth of that month. About the same time, he was offered the deanery of Litchfield and Coventry, which he refused ; and it is said that he might afterwards have been raised to any bishop ric in the kingdom, if he would have conformed to the established church. Dr. Bates was one of the commis sioners at the Savoy conference in 1660, for reviewing the public liturgy, and was concerned in drawing up the exceptions against the common prayer. He was, like wise, chosen on the part of the presbyterian ministers, together with Dr. Jacomb and Mr. Baxter, to manage the dispute with Dr. Pearson, afterwards Bishop of Chester, Dr. Gunning, afterwards Bishop of Ely, and Dr. Sparrow, afterwards Bishop of Ely. In 1665, he took the oath required of the nonconformists. It was to this purpose : That they should swear, ' that it was not lawful, upon ' any pretence whatever, to take arms against the king ; • and that they abhorred the traitorous position of taking ' arms, by his authority, against his person, or against * those that are commissioned by him, in pursuance of ' such commission ; and that they would not at any time ' endeavour any alteration in the government, either in ' church or in state.' Those who refused this oath were to be restrained from coming (except upon the road) within five miles of any city or corporation, or any Elace which sent burgesses to parliament,, or where they ad been ministers, or had preached since the act of oblivion. The act which imposed this oath, openly ac cused the nonconformist ministers of seditious doctrines and practices. Hereupon some of them studied how to take the oath lawfully; and Dr. Bates consulted the Lord Keeper Bridgman, who promised to be present at the next sessions, and openly to declare from the bench, that by endeavour to change the government in church, was meant only ' unlawful endeavour;' which satisfying him, he thereby satisfied others; and accordingly twenty of them came in at the sessions, and took the oath. Dr. Bates wrote a letter hereupon to Mr- Baxter, representing the Vase, and the reasons upon which the ministers acted ; but Mr. Baxter, who gives us this account, tells us, that the arguments used in the letter seemed to him not sufficient to enervate the force of the Objections against their taking the oath, by the act commonly called the Five-mile Act, and which had passed in the parliament held that year at Oxford, on account of the plague's being in BATES. 107 in London. When about January 1667-8, a treaty was proposed by Sirx Orlando Bridgman, Lord Keeper of the great seal, and countenanced by the Lord Chief Baron Hale, for a comprehension of such of the dissenters as could be brought into the communion of the church, and for a toleration of the rest, Dr. Bates was one of the divines who, on the presbyterian .side, were engaged in drawing up a scheme of the alterations and concessions desired by that party. He was concerned, likewise, in another fruitless at tempt of the same kind, which was made in 1674. Dr. Bates bore a most excellent character. Mr. Baxter styles him a learned, judicious, and moderate divine. Mr. John Howe, formerly fellow of Magdalen College in Oxford, in his funeral sermon for him on John xi. 16. has given his character at large. He represents him as a man of the most graceful appearance and deportment ; of strong natural abilities, and extensive learning ; of an admirable memory; a great collector and devourer of books ; of the most agreeable and useful conversation ; and remarkable for a peculiar spirit of moderation, and zeal for union among Christians, and was honoured with the esteem and acquaintance of Lord Keeper Bridgman, Lord Chancellor Finch, and his son, the Earl of Notting ham. Dr. TiUotson had such an opinion of our noncon formist's learning and temper, that it became the ground of a friendship between them, which continued to the death of that prelate. .Dr. Bates used his interest with the Archbishop, in procuring a pardon for Dr. Nathaniel Crew, Bishop of Durham, who, for his conduct in the ecclesiastical commission, had been excepted out of the act of indemnity, which passed in 1690. When the dissenters presented their address to King William and Queen Mary, on their accession to the throne, the two speeches to their Majesties were delivered by Dr." Bates. The doctor was much respected byKing William ; and Queen Mary often employed herself in her closet with his writings. His residence, during the latter part of his life, was at Hackney, where he preached to a re spectable society of protestant dissenters ; arid at that place he died, on the 14th of July 1699, in the seventy- fourth year of his age. Thus much for his history. As to his character, it was, through grace, of the most exemplary kind. He had great natural talents, and great acquired abilities; and his happiness it was to employ the whole in the service 106 ' BATES. service of God and his people. * In giving some ac count of him (says the no less excellent Mr. Howe, in his funeral sermon upon Dr. Bates) one cannot omit taking notice of the graceful mien and comeliness of his person, which was adapted to command respect in that public station for which Providence designed him. His concern lay not only with mean men, (though he knew how to condescend to the meanest) he was to stand before kings. It is well known in what relation he stood to one, (namely, King Charles II. to whom he was chap lain) as long as was convenient for certain purposes ; and how frequent occasion he had of appearing (never unac- eeptably) before another, namely, King William III. His aspect was decently grave and amiable, such as might com mand both reverence and love. To use his own words, (concerning Alderman Ashurst,) " a constant serenity " reigned in his countenance; the visible sign of the di- " vine calm in his breast." His endowments (says another writer) were much be yond the common rate. His apprehension was quick and clear : his reasoning faculty acute and ready, so as to ma nage an argument to great advantage. Kis judgment was penetrating and solid : His wit never light or vain, though facetious and pleasant, by the help of a vigorous and lively imagination, always obedient to reason. His memory was admirable, and was never observed to fail; nor was it im paired to the last. He could repeat, verbatim, speeches which he had made on particular occasions, though he had not penned a word of them ; and he constantly delivered his sermons from his memory, which he sometimes said, with an amiable freedom, he continued to do when he grew in years, partly to teach some, who were younger, to preach without notes. He was generally reputed one of the best orators of the age. His voice was charming: His language always neat and fine ; but unaffected, free, and plain. [Hence he was called the silver-tongued Dr. Bates by his contemporaries ; for it seems to have been indeed " a well-tuned cymbal."] His method in all his discourses might be exposed to the severest critics. His style was polite, yet easy, and to himself the most natural. His frequent and apt similitudes and allusions (the produce of a vivid fancy, regulated by judgment and sanctified by grace) greatly served his pious purpose, to illustrate the truth he designed to recommend, and give it the greatest advantage for entering the mind with light and pleasure, so as at once to instruct and delight the hearer. That fine way BATES. 109 way of expressing himself (which some were disposed to censure) was become habitual to him, and he pleased others by it much more than himself; for " he commended Mr. " Baxter for the noble negligence of his style,"and says that " his great mind could not stoop to the affected eloquence " of words."—' Very excellent men (said Mr. HoWe, 4 speaking upon this point) excel in different ways : The ' most radiant stones may differ in, colour, where they do ' not in value.'- — His learning was a vast treasure, and his knowledge of books so great, that one who was as great a pillar and as bright an ornament of the church of England as ever it had, was known to say, ' That were he to col- ' lect a library, he would as soon consult Dr. Bates as any ' one he knew.' — ' I never knew any one (says Mr. Howe) 4 more frequent or affectionate in the admiration of divine ' grace, upon all occasions, than he was, as none had a * deeper sense of the impotence and pravity of human 4 nature. Into what transports of admiration of the love ' of God have I seen him break forth, when some 4 things not immediately relating to practical godliness ' had taken up great part of our time ! How easy a step 4 did he make of it from earth to heaven ! With what 4 high flights of thought and affection was he wont to ' speak of the heavenly state ! Even like a man much 4 more akin to the other world than this. Let those who 4 often visited him say, whether he did not usually send 4 them away with somewhat that tended to better their * spirits, and quicken, them in their Way heavenwards.' His funeral sermon was preached by Mr. Howe, as be- fore-mentioned^ and contains a most passionate lamenta tion of his death, in a strength of language peculiar to that great writer. It is often to be met with alone in 12mo. His Works. " I. Discourses on the Existence of GoD ; the Immortality of the Soul ; and the Divinity of the Christian Religion. II. The Harmony of the Divine Attributes. III. The great Duty of Resignation. IV. The Danger of Prosperity. V. Sermons on Forgive ness of Sins. VI. The Sure Trial of Uprightness. VII. The Four last Things, viz. . Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell : In which his Book, called The Final Happiness of Man, is included. VIII. Of Spiritual Per fection. IX. Eleven Sermons on several Occasions. X. A Sermon on the Death of Queen Mary. XI. On the Death of Dr. Manton. XII. On the Death of Dr. Jacomb. XIII. On the Death of Mr. Baxter. XIV. On the Death of Mr. David Clarkson. XV. On the Death of / 110 BUR K ITT. of Mr. Benjamin Ashurst. XVI. On Divine Meditation. XVII. On the Fear of God, &c. XVIII. The Lives of several Eminent Persons, in Latin." The above eighteen pieces, which had been separately printed, were collected info one volume in folio ; besides' which a posthumous piece of his appeared in octavo, containing some " Sermons on the Everlasting Rest of the Saints." He wrote, likewise, in conjunction with Mr. Howe, " A Prefatory Epistle to Mr. Chaffy's Treatise- of the Sabbath," upon its being reprinted ; and another before " Lord Stair's Vindication of the Divine Attri butes." Dr. Bates is universally understood to have been the politest writer among the Nonconformists of the last century. WILLIAM BURKITT, M. A. VJCAR and LECTURER of DEDHAM, ESSEX. A HIS useful and exemplary Divine yvas the son of the* Reverend Miles Burkitt, M. A. who- was ejected by the Act of Uniformity from Netisherd in Norfolk, in the' year 1662. Mr. William Burkitt was born at Hitcham in Suffolk, July 25, 1650. In his childhood he appeared to" be endowed with an excellent memory,, which, through the happiness of grace and a good education, became a' sacred repository. Mr. Goffe of Bilston washis first school master for a year : He was thence sent for education to the school at Stow-market, whence he was removed to Cam bridge school, under Mr. Griffin. While he was there it' pleased God to visit him with the small-pox, which proved" a happy dispensation to him, for then God began, by the influence of his Holy Spirit, to move him to attend in ear nest to the things of his peace, and wrought an holy change- in the temper of his mind. After his recovery from his dangerous disease he was admitted into Pembroke Hall, under the tuition of Mr. Gibbs, and upon his tutor's re moving from the college, Mr. Abel, of the same house, took him under his care. From the college he came to Bilston Hall in Suffolk, and was chaplain there. He en tered upon the ministry very early, after having been or dained by Bishop Reynolds, and not long after was settled at BURKITT. Ill at Milden in Suffolk, at which place he was minister about twenty-one years, and which at this time is also happily favoured by the clear and lively preaching of evangelical truth. In 1692 he removed to' Dedham in Essex. _ Mr. Burkitt kept a diary, in which are recorded the history of divine providence towards him, and many re markable deliverances vouchsafed to him. In this diary are also contained his thankful acknowledgments of divine assistance and success in his ministry, and the humble con fessions of his sins and weaknesses, &c. As nothing so- fully opens the interior of the soui as a person's diary, some passages from it, evincing the pious spirit of Mr. Burkitt, may be very acceptable and useful, especially to such who are conversant with his writings. " While I " continued, says he, at school in Cambridge, it pleased " God to visit me with the small-pox, but very favour- " ably, and, as I hope, in great mercy laying the foun- " dation of my spiritual health in that sickness ; working, " as I hope, a prevailing thorough change in the very " frame and disposition of my soul. May my soul, and " all that is within me bless thy name, O Lord, that this " sickness should, by the blessing of thine Holy Spirit, " open my blind eyes, which hath closed the eyes of so " many in darkness and death ! O happy sickness, that " ends in the recovery of the soul to God ! " In 1666, God visited the town of /Cambridge with the " plague. The students in general fled into the country. " I with two or three more continued shut up in the" 44 college, and from my chamber window I beheld the " dead bodies of persons, swept away by the infection, " carried to their burial. These solemn spectacles, toge- " ther with the melancholy condition of the town and " nation, brought my soul to a holy seriousness. " At Easter 1681, before my approach to the table of " the Lord, I took some fresh pains with my own heart, " to find out the state of my soul." After this paragraph follow several indications of in tegrity and sincerity in religion, namely, " A sight of the " deformity and sinfulness of sin, and of the superlative " beauty and excellency of Christ. A love to the word " of God, not only to his promises, but his commands, " because of their purity and holiness. An. apprehension " of danger in resting upon our own works and righte- 44 ousness. Finding it the hardest matter in the world to " believe aright. Grief for want of more godly sorrow " for sin. Jealously lest hypocrisy should lie at the hot- " torn 112 BURKITT. 44 torn. To have a regard in our actions to the principle, 44 the motive, and the end. Solemn dedications of our- " selves to Gob. Watching and prayer against the sins 44 to which we are most inclined, as seeking in religious 44 performances the praise and applause of men. Real 44 affliction for not loving God more. Due regard to 44 the duties of the second table: such as, to owe no man 44 any thing but Jove— rather to suffer than do' wrong — " to preserve the reputation of others — to value others 44 by their real worth, and not by their regards to us. " Valuing the image of our Lord and Saviour, in whom- 44 soever it appears, and esteeming them most who are 44 most like him in holiness. Loving our enemies, pray- 44 ing for them, and doing them good. 44 Sept. 3, 1682, my neighbouring brother in the mi- 44 nistry, Mr. Thompson of Royden, after having preached 44 on the Lord's Day, was surprized by an apoplexy, and 44 died in a short time. Lord, who am I, that I should 44 yet survive amidst the funerals of them who were 44 younger, stronger, better, and more useful than my- 44 self? O let me double my diligence in working out my 44 own, and helping forward the salvation of others, while " the day of patience lasts, for thou, Lord, comest in an 44 hour of which we are not aware ! 44 New-year's day, 1684, 1 was up soon after four o'clock, 44 desiring earnestly to begin the year with God, to re- 44 new my covenant with him, and to engage myself in " an holy vigilancy and circumspect walking with and be- 44 fore the Lord the day following and the year following. 44 The Lord keep it in the purpose of my heart for ever 44 to continue faithful to him ! 44 July 25, 1686, being my birth-day, I engaged my- 44 self to devote my first waking-time to God, and my *' dressing-time to fruitful meditation of the mercy of a 44 night's rest, some spending their time in pain, some in 44 prison, and some in hell. 44 About Midsummer 1687, I received a petition from " Ipswich, on behalf of the French protestant ministers, 44 and communicated the matter to several, whose hearts 44 the Lord so graciously moved, that I collected for them 44 above an hundred pounds. The Lord make me thankful, 44 who gave me an heart to compassionate and help them." By his book of accounts it appears at large, that this his labour of love for the poor French exiles continued she years successively, namely, 1687, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92. In which time, though he lived but in a country village, he so BURKITT. 113 so exerted himself far and near in this matter, as, by the merciful hand of his God with him, as himself expresses it, to collect from private hands no less than two hundred and sixteen pounds seventeen shillings, which whole sum, with a little overplus, is in a most full and distinct man ner set down as faithfully distributed by him towards the relief of the said French protestants in Suffolk and Essex, &c. Remarkable also were his care, pains, and prudent conduct in the distribution of this Charity; for, as he gave same part of it in specie, as necessity required, so that he might lay out the rest in the most frugal manner for the furnishing them with clothes and provisions, he rode about the country to the cheapest markets, though he sometimes went a journey. of hear twenty miles for the purpose. It may not be improper to add the close, which he himself sets at the foot of his account. 44 All my charges, says he, in journeying from place to place, as also for the letters to and fro, both which ar ticles were very considerable, and all my labour and pains I account as nothing, but look upon it as the greatest ho nour of my life, that God made me such an instrument for the relief of his persecuted members. Soli Deo gloria. a servorum minima, William Burkitt. That is, To GoD only be glory given by the least of his servants, William Burkitt." 44 August 24, 1688. I spent some considerable time in writing letters of advice to some young academics, and in prayer for a blessing thereupon both to myself and them. 44 December 1692. Upon undertaking the charge of Dedham, I resolved, by divine assistance, upon the fol lowing course for the benefit of my people, namely, to "pour out my soul to God every day in prayer for them, to preach constantly thrice in the week, to administer the Lord's Supper once in two months, to catechize the youth at church, and others at my house, and to go from house to house through the town, warning and directing. " Christmas, 1696, being a severe time for the poor, through the severity of the weather, and want of work by reason of the great scarcity of money, I exhorted my people to turn the feasting of the rich into feeding the poor, assuring them, that less at the table and more,at the door would be better accepted; and accordingly feast ing was universally laid aside, and the poor plentifully re lieved. At this time, I met with a very unjust and unex pected accusation from , whom I had faithfully VOL. IV. I served, 114 BURKITT. served, and sought to oblige. The consciousness of my own innocence supported me ; and I hope God will do me good by all. Some persons had never had a particular share in my prayers, but for the injuries they have done me. God honoured me sometimes in suffering his own enemies to declare themselves mine; however, he often convinced, and always restrained them, that they could not considerably hurt me. Blessed be my defence, and the God of my mercy !" After having given these specimens of Mr. Burkitt's diary, which shew of what a devout, humble, benevolent; forgiving spirit this excellent minister was possessed, we now proceed to speak of his work in the ministry. Mr. Burkitt preached much, spared not himself at home or abroad, and delighted in his Master's work. In his preaching, he was clear and easy to be understood, ealcuv lating his discourses to profit his hearers. Beside his hea venly matter and acceptable words, there was something of a charm in his voice, and it pleased God to crown his public labours with great success upon many of his hearers. He wanted not seals of his divine mission.* He used the * It is hardly possible to pass over the warm and faithful address which bis reverend broilur-in-law Mr. Parkhursl lias given lo his brethren of (he clergv upon the occasion of Mr. Burkitt's death; and therefore I will present it to my readers without further apology. Some parts of it seem almost prophetic. ' We are ambassadors for Christ, and shepherds to our people, and set as watchmen o'er oar several congregations. And, ' I. Let us receive the admonition 'on gave lo the prophet in Ezek. xxxiii 7, 8, 9 So thou sun of man, &,c. Let .us warn the wicked from' God's month, according to his word in the Holy Scriptures, of the r-\ il and dangers of sin allowed and continued in, though secret, ^hough counted little in the eye of the world, informing them that sin allowed is an of fence tn Goo, a slight put upon his majesty and government, a breach of of his law and covenant, and must end in a dreadful loss and misery. 'f his is the Sum of the warning we should give. And we should deliver it tn such a manner, that they that are warned by us may believe us in ear- nest, and that we think as we speak. And our warnings should be attend ed with clear instructions to them concerning the credenda, agenda, and pehnda ; and with prayt r in secret for direction in composing our ser mons, as may best serve to awaken their consciences, and to prevail upon them to reform their hearts and lives. And as alluring them to comply with our solemn admonitions, let us unfold to them their miserable condi tion by nature, the inHnite mercies of Gob to sinners in the covenant of grace, the'merils of Christ, the mighty favour of giving grace and a new heart, and not only accepting it. ' II. As a goad in our sides, to excite to great diligence in our minis try, let us consider the peril attending negligence, the requiring- the blood of perishing souls at our hands, and reputing us as the worst sort of mur derers. And this is so weighty a thing, ard renders the ministry so AWFL'I., BURKITT. 115 the allowed liberty of prayer in his own words, and herein had divine matter, and solemn moving expressions, assist ing the affection of such who joined in prayer with him. He administered the Lord's Supper with much solemnity, and his sermon and prayer before it were adapted to inspire deep devotion in the communicants. He found time to visit AWFUL, THAT THE BEST PREFERMENT IN EUROPE IS NOT A SUFFICIENT TEMPTATION TO AN AWAKENED MIND TO UNDERTAKE THE OFFICE. But it may be S&l'd; HOW comes it then to pass that auy engage in ii? ' Answer I. Some few, like primitive men, undertake it with under standing, and out of pure zeal for the service and glory of God, and in love to souls ; but a child may write them. ' 2. The most of us; I fear, engage in it before we maturely consider. And »hen we come to some depth of considering, we find we cannot re tire, having put our hand to the plough, and so we grow solicitous about managing the office with safety to our own souls, and then we feel that no maintenance is a recompence for our undertaking, and that only a desire to glorify God, and a love to souls, can sweeten the calling to us, that is attended with so much difficulty and peril. Were we only to perform the common offices, and preach so many times in a year, there were no great burden in this. But when conscience awakens, and a minister studies; preaches, and prays, and visits solicitously, in, expectation of passing an account with God, then the ministry is weighty indeed, and the minister had rather dig for a livelihood, if he might chuse, than be a pastor to get bread. And if it be said, others are in like danger, tHrough care of souls incumbent on them, as parents and masters of families ; I answer; It is true, and O that they would consider it ! But our danger is not the less by this, but more accumulated, some ministers being also parents and masters. Now, in consideration of the hazard attending unfaithful ness and negligence in our office, let us implore divine aid, and gird up the loin of our minds, put forth our strength in our ministrations : And if we so do, we shall find very little time for pleasures; and the little ambi tion of being reputed very ingenious men, will be buried and lost in an en deavour to be found faithful. ' III. To diligence in our ministry, let us add an exemplary coni versation, shining as lights in a dark world, living: in an agreement with what we read, and pray, and preach. For if this be wanting; though we could preach as angels, it will not profit us in the great day, as is evident from that passage in St. Matth. vii. 22, 23, fit to be engra ven on the fronts of our studies, on our desks and pulpits, and much more upon our hearts : Many will say to me in thai day, Lord, we have prophesied in thy name; then will I say to them, Depart from me, ye workers of iniquity. We should lead by example in the ways of righted ousness, purity, meekness, charity, humility; devotion, and forgiving, &c. And that we may be exemplary, let us imitate our blessed Lord and Redeemer. Many things in his management are for our imitation ; and particularly his purity and zeal in reproving sin: None escaped his reproofs. He reproved the church of the Jews in general ; the capital city, Jerusalem; the ecclesiastics; and the civil power, Scribes and Pha» risees, and Herod himself, Go tell that fox. Now since we hope in his mercy, and wash in his blood, and depend on his merits, and glory in his name, let us tread in his steps. « IV* As 116 BURKITT. visit the sick and others, and in their houses to instruct, admonish, exhort, and comfort them, as their cases re quired. In his visits to the poor, he not only ministered to their souls, but inquired into their bodily wants, and procured for them the supplies they needed. Among his intimate acquaintance he was cheerful, but yet always in clined ' IV. As an attractive to faithfulness and great diligence in our minis try, let us contemplate the safety and reward that attends it. In thus doing we shall deliver our own souls from lying down in sorrow, from dwelling in darkness, and with the apostate infernal spirits. And besides this, we shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, as the stars, and as the sun, in the kingdom of our Father. In the consideration of these things, let us be diligent, stedfast, unmoveable, and abounding in our ministerial Work, that our labour may not be in vain. And if this life I have written may contribute hereunto, I shall rejoice. And let me add this advice, that our preaching be managed with respect to the prevailing errors of our times, to prevent our congregations from being infected by them. Deism is the taking error among men of parts and learning; and it gains among more ordinary people ; so that we are in danger of preserving only natural religion, and letting go supernatural and divinely revealed Scripture truths. If care be not taken, religion among us will be only remembering our Creator, forgetting our Redeemer and Corn- forte., and the addresses in our litany will go no farther than to GOD the lalhei of heaven. Let us then preach the divinity of Christ, the incarnation of the Son of God, and shew our people, that less. than one truls God eould nor. have been a sufficient king, priest, or prophet to rlie church. And let us not fail to open and confirm to them the docti me of Christ's satisfaction made fur our sins, by his being a real sa- critiee, made sin or a sin-offering for us. Too many in our age depre ciate Christ, and account him only the most excellent man that ever was. And let us,. in a just opposition, magnify Christ, and acquaint our con gregations, that his goings forth were from everlasting, that he is the mighty GOD, and everlasting Father: And that he did not die only as a martyr, bearing testimouy to truth, but dying charged with our sins, bearing our iniquities and sufferings, and atoning for them, as is abun dantly declared in Scripture, and in the communion office of our church, and in some of the collects. In defence of the Christian religion, let us preach more of the person, natures and offices of Christ, and of justifi cation, not by our best works, but by him, and faith in him, which is the church of England doctrine. Let us not stop in the dictates of Plutarch, Seneca, and F.pictetus, but directly preach the evangelical truths con cerning our Redeemer, and redemption by him ; and let our people know a true faith is as needful to salvation as a good life, in opposition la a growing, spreading, pernicious error, that it matters not what men be lieve, provided they live a good life; and that a Jew, or a Turk, or an heathen, are in as good a condition as Christians, provided that tbey are not debauched and lewd in their manners. And that we may stem the Arian and Socinian tide, let us preach much concerning the Holy Spirit, and shew our congregations he is God, and a person distinct from Father and Son, though the same in essence. Let us shew them the Holy Spirit's co-operation with Father and Son in the works of crea tion, providence, redemption, sanctification, and resurrection;, his offices with respect to the church and people of God, being' their teacher, sanctifies BURKITT. 117 clined to quit the innocent pleasantry, and turn the dis course into a serious channel. In his common conversa tion, he conducted himself with sobriety, justice, humili ty, and affability. No spots were to be found in his feasts ; no unworthy behaviour stained his holy character. Wher ever he appeared, there appeared the Christian and the minister. sanctifier, helper, remembrancer, and comforter, and that to good thing is done well without his influence, aid, and assistance. Considering our being baptized in the name of the Holy Ghost, and that our bodies are his temples, and he seals us to the day of redemption, we should not in our sermons be silent concerning the Holy Spirit. The Scripture speaks much of the Holy Spirit, and therefore we should speak of him not a little; and the rather, that our congregations may pray with under standing, Take not thy Holy Spirit from us. Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit. Send down thy Holy Spirit into our hearts. And that the conclusion of several prayers may be under stood, and not be harder than Latin to them, viz. who livelh and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit. And if by much preaching of Christ and the Holy Spirit the people be inured to thoughts of, and dependence upon Christ and the Holy Spirit, it will not be so easy to deists to per vert them. Not that I would in the least divert from practical preaching by what I have said ; for every doctrine concerning Christ and the Holy Spirit may be improved in an application to the urging and promoting virtue and godliness, as St. Chrysostom's expositions of Scripture are at tended with his H91KON. And a=suredli, exhortations to piety and ho liness in general, or to any particular branch .of godliness, are rendered more lively by being grafted upon the stock of some evangelical truth. This was St. Paul's method in bis Epistles to the Romans, Galatians, Ephe- sians, Colossians, and Hebrews, to insist first upon some great revealed truths, as the divinity of Christ or his priesthood, or justification byfaith, or the like, and then bring in his exhortation to parents, children, mas ters, servants, husbands, and wives, to live becoming the gospel, in all holiness. We may then sufficiently attend to our endeavouring the re formation of our several congregations, and yet preach much concerning Christ and the Holy Ghost. And we have great patterns of it in our own church, and may have great help in it from the writings of some of them of great name, as Archbishop Usher, Bishop Pearson, Doctor Jack son, and others. And as moving to this, it is a deplorable thing, that as Britain bred the author of the Pelagian heresy, there should now be so much danger of the reviving Arianism in this island. Let us then use our endeavours to keep up the great docnines of the Trinity, and incar nation of the Son of God; and his satisfaction and justification by him, and of the impotency and opposition of nature to faith and godliness, and of our need of the aids of an Almighty Holy Spirit, by preach ing these things. Religion and godliness have flourished under these doctrines, and 1 verily believe piety will decay where these doctrines are forsaken, or not heeded. And we cannot do a better service than by maintaining them in our preaching by Scripture-arguments, that it may appear we oppose Socinianism ex animo; and not only because otherwise we cannot read the church-service, in which we have Te Deum, Glor. Patri, Fit. Sp. Sanct. and addresses to Christ, O Lamb of GOD, Son of David, have mercy onus, and the like. And I shall conclude to you, my reverend brethren, with my earnest wishes, that we may be endued with power from on high to fulfill the ministry we have received of fhe Lord, and to adorn our function, that we may die with the consola tion^ 118 BURKITT. minister. ' I am assured from one, (says Mr. Parkhurst, probably meaning his wife) that he enjoyed an uninter rupted calmness and serenity of mind, and lived in the comfortable hopes of God's love to his soul, and bis title to glory, for several years before he died: A mercy, that those who are involved in the business of the world, and swallowed up in the pleasures of sin and sensuality, are strangers to and will not believe.' Some treated him unkindly, but he forbore speaking either bitterly or con temptibly of his enemies; and, if they needed his service, he was ready to afford them it, heaping coals of fire upon their heads. Knowing the mischiefs of animosities, he used his persuasions, his interest, and his friends to reduce his jarring neighbours to peace, and left nothing in his power undone to effect a reconciliation. In reference to young persons, besides his public catechizing of them, which he conducted in a very agreeable manner, he was very fre quent, solemn, and importunate in his petitions to God for them. They were much upon his thoughts, and his desire for them was, that they might remember their Creator in the days of their youth. His family religion was such as became the Gospel. His house was a house of morning and evening prayers, and the reading of the Scriptures was daily observed in if, and that many times attended with exposition. Beside family prayer twice in the day, he prayed with the most intimate companion of his cares, joys, and sorrows. He was a strict observer of the Lord's Day, and did not think the duties of the day were over, when the public worship of God was at an end; but he spent the evening with his family tions we have ministered to such as we have judged accepted of God in Christ.' To this may be added (from the same excellent person) his definition of the minister who most honours the church of England. ' 1. He, who in doctrine comes nearest to the thirty-nine articles, serves and honours the church of England more than they who contra dict those articles, in which is contained the church of England confes sion of faith. ' 2. He who, in the use of our holy forms, is solemn, serious, and grave, serves and honours the church of England more than they *ho huddle the prayers, and carry no appearance of reverence in divine offices. ' 3. He who is strict in his conversation, according to the gravity of the canons, serves' and honours the church of England more than they who appear with much air and levity, and comply with riot and disorder. ' 4. He who spends most of his tirhe in studying, preaching, praying, and visiting his flock, serves and honours the church of England mote than they who waste much time in innocent recreations, orworse.' BURKITT. 119 family in hearing them read the Scriptures, in examining them concerning the sermons they had heard, in catechiz ing them, in praising Goo, and in praying with them and for them. He was a great redeemer or' time. Variety of business and improvement were his chief diversions. He was a man more than ordinarily mortified to the plear sures and vanities of the world. ' Upon the Lord's Day, October 17, 1703, in the place (says Mr. Parkhurst) where he had pleaded the cause of God against Rome, the cause of Christ against deism, the cause of the Holy Ghost against the deriders of his name and'office, the cause of faith against justification by imperfect works, and the cause of special grace against the pretended powers of nature to save, he was struck witli that sickness which put an end to his days. His disorder was such as made him leave his beloved place the house of God, and it proved the last time of his appearance there. Upon returning to his house his distemper increased, but with intermissions, allowing some happy moments for thinking and speaking. In the short time of his illness, and in the view of approaching death, he very seriously entertained his friends who came to visit him, and prayed much himself with great ardour. In the midst of his bor jdily affliction, devout aspirations, and blessed hopes, he remembered his beloved Dedham, and in the near approach of death signed a letter to his diocesan, recommending a successor to him, whom he hoped would be faithful and diligent in the spiritual care of the flock he was now leav- < ing. In his sickness, God made his face to shine upon him : The Spirit of God witnessed with his spirit his adoption, and he went with a full sail to heaven, as one of his much- valued friends, a witness of it, expressed it; to whom, speaking of the high pleasures of the Lord's Supper, in which they had often joined, and calling the wine in the sacrament the wine of the kingdom, he broke forth into these words : " But what will it be to drink the wine of the kingdom in the kingdom ?" Taking so lemn leave of a friend a day or two before his death, he said, " I shall leave you ; but may the presence of Far ther, Son, and Holy Ghost be with you ; may the pre sence of the whole Trinity be with you ! I hope to see you again with joy, at the resurrection of the just." And he added, " What you have seen in me that is good and imitable, follow it; but what you have observed is not so, let not your affection and love to me sway you to do it." Thus 120 BURKITT. Thus lived and died this holy man. God blessed the town of Dedham wjMi Mr. Burkitt's ministry and labours eleven years and an naif, and removed him when he was not far gone in his declining age, when the powers of both body and mind were yet in their vigour. His strength was such, and he conducted himself with so much temperance and moderation in every thing but in his work, (there in deed he exceeded) that it might have been hoped that he had been built for fourscore, but God took him away when he was but just turned of fifty-three. A seven days' conflict with a very malignant fever put an end to his life. He was taken with his deatb-sickness upon one Lord's day, when he was in the service of God at church, and he went to keep his everlasting Sabbath on the Lord's day after, about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, when he rested from his labours, while his works do follow him. He preached some time to the people of a country village at a (considerable distance from his own charge, who for a long season had been seldom provided with sermons, and, by his endeavours and contribution, and assistance from others obtained by his interest, that village had a settled minister for some. years. By his great care, pains, and charges, he procured a pious minister to go and settle in Carolina. And he expended not a little of .that with whieh God had blessed him, toward the maintenance of some poor stu dents in the University of Cambridge. In his last sickness, when his friends about him bewailed the great loss which they feared was coming upon them by his decease, he de sired them " not to be too much concerned for him, for to him to live would be Christ, and to die would be gain ;" and added, " That God would provide for them." He blessed God that he had finished what he designed upon the New Testament ; he said, that he had ushered this work into the world with many, very many prayers, and he hoped, through the divine blessing, that it would prove very beneficial to many, and especially to his own people. The declaration of several persons by his dying bed, that he had been the instrument of their conversion, put him into a transport of joy. His patience in his last sickness was very exemplary. He said he had preached patience, and written ofpatieDce, and that therefore he was bound to practise patience. His frame in his sickness was a con tinued series of prayer, thanksgiving, and cheerful resig nation to the divine will. A little before he poured out his last breath, he prayed, " Come, Lord Jesus, make a short work of it !" HU S P E N E R. 121 His Works. " I. A funeral Sermon for the Reverend Mr. William Gurnall, on Heb. xiii.i II. An Argumen tative and Practical Discourse on Infant Baptism. IIP. The Poor Man's Help, and the Young Man's Guide. IV. Family Instruction, a Catechism, explaining by short Questions and Answers the great and necessary Doctrines of Faith and Holiness. V. His celebrated large work, entitled, Expository Notes, with practical Observations on the New Testament, folio." PHILIP JAMES SPENER, D. D, PHILIP JAMES SPENER, was born the 13th of January 1635, at Rappolsweiler in the Upper Elsasz in Germany, of very pious parents, as he himself testifies, in his own account of his life. They devoted him to the ser vice of God from his birth. With respect to his natu ral parts ; he was endued with uncommon ingenuity, a very retentive memory, and a most penetrating judgment. To these three gifts, which are seldom to be met with in one person, we may add, that of an uncommon thirst for knowledge : So that he very early began to seek and taste the sweetness of all useful learning. He had great advan tages, both from his parents and others, for spiritual and moral improvements ; and he was ver}r happily diligent in prosecuting and embracing them. All his leisure hours were employed in the study of history, geography, and poetry. His acquirements, previous to his going to the university in the year 1651, being considerable, he was promoted to the degree of master of arts by the university of Strasburg in the eighteenth year of his age ; after disputing De confirmation naturce rationalis ad Creator em, in which he particularly treated De Theologia naturali, and observ ed some things against Hobbes and his notions. Having before applied himself to the study of Greek and Hebrew, (in the former of which he accustomed himself to read, next to the New Testament, the best writers ; in the lat ter, he applied himself chiefly to the study of the Scrip tures ;) he was able, in three quarters of a-year, to dispute privately in the Hebrew tongue, lo order to have a right understanding 123 SPENER. understanding of the Rabbins and Talmuds, he not only made use of the instructions of a Jew, but also, in the year 1659, went to Basiif to embrace an opportunity of im proving his knowledge in this way under the celebrated Buxtor.f. He much applied himself to history, particularly the German history, from the most ancient authors ; ho was also well instructed in the Arabic. On the 14th day of June 1654, ho began his Studium Theologicum. Thus Divine Providence directed his studies to answer the end for which he was designed. In the year 1654 he was appointed preceptor to the two princely brothers, Duke Christian and Duke Ernest John Charles, Counts Palatine upon the Rhine, with whom he returned to Strasburg, and there instructed them a year an J a half: In which time he had but little leisure to apply himself to his own particular studies. Therefore, in the year 1656, when the two counts were to travel to France, he, by the advice of the divines, took his leave of them ; apprehending the journey might have proved hurtful to him in his study of divinity. Upon this he applied him self again to his studies, as far as his attendance on the lectures would permit ; for having settled an intimacy with most of the principal men of the university, by means of the princes, he attended their lectures with great diligence, namely, of logic, metaphysics, &c. As his mind, during his residence at the university, was under very gracious impressions, he was preserved from the great dangers which an university life exposed him to. He accustomed himself, on the Lord's day, to have nothing to do with worldly mat ters ; nor even to engage himself in those theological stu dies by which he was only to be made more learned, and not more holy and heavenly minded. God having im pressed this pious man, in his infinite mercy, with great concern for his own soul, he was the more considerate for the souls of others. In the year 1662, during the time he was at Tubingen, a call was sent from Strasburg, in which was not only a great charge, but many peculiar difficulties. This occasioned a great struggle in hi$ mind. However, this affair, for that time, fell to the ground. But, in the next year, the magistracy at Strasburg, through the instrument tality of Dr. Dannhaur, sent him a solemn call to the se cond place in the ministry, which he accepted with great pleasure ; because, during his whole stay at Strasburg, he continued to read lectures on divinity, history, geography, and SPENER. 123 and politics. At this time he took the degree in doctor of divinity. In the year 1666, he accepted a call to Frankfort, which was attended with the care of many souls. On the 3d of July he took an affectionate farewell of the congregation, in the cathedral of Strasburg, preaching from Psalm cxix. 52. And on the twentieth of the same month he arrived with his family in Frankfort. He remained at Frankfort twenty years, namely, to the year 1686, when he was called to Dresden. It may not be unacceptable to the reader, to be informed what passed in this time in the church there ; and will be best understood by his own words : " It al ways proved a weighty concern with me, after justifica tion, to press forward towards greater degrees of sanctify cation. The first strong exciting thereto I experienced, by the grace of God, on the sixth Sunday after Trinity, 1669, when I embraced an opportunity of reproving the false unsatisfactory righteousness of the Pharisees. Conr cerning this sermon, which was afterwards printed, I have reason to extol the power of God," which was at that time so manifested, that the word pierced the heart almost of every one, according to Acts ii. 37. Some the word had such an effect upon, that, because they were disturbed in their security, they resolved never to come to the church again. Others were brought to experience a reverential awe at the majesty of GoD, confessed their hypocrisy, and, by the grace of God, turned to him with all their hearts. From this time, I continued preaching the pure word of justification by faith, without any respect at all to the merit of wtorks, and pofhted out the absolute necessity of having a lively faith in Jesus Christ in order to be real Christians. The, work of God being thus carried on, not only by preaching, but also by catechizing the chil dren, and other religious societies; it is not to be wondered at, that the devil, who saw his kingdpm tottering and ex posed to ruin, exerted all his power to put an end to the good work begun. To effect this, he made use of his customary arts of lying and slander, perverting the truths of the gospel which were confessed by all professing Chris tians to be true; inasmuch, through his subtilty, the good beginning made in Frankfort was by too many despised." In May 1684, this pious minister was by the privy coun sellor Seckendorff removed from Frankfort to Dresden, where he did not continue long. The reason of his dis mission from Dresden is thus represented : On the 22d pf February 1689, after the example of his predecessors, Dr. Wellors 124 SPENER. Wellers and Dr. Geyers, he sent a letter to the elector John George III. in which, with the most profound re spect, he laid before him the state of his soul. Some of the nobles represented this faithful dealing as an insult; and their arguments so far prevailed, that the elector re solved never to hear him again : And he returned him his own letter, together with another, in which God so go verned hand and pen, that no hard words were made use of. From this time, the elector neither saw nor heard him In 1690, a person having asserted in private conversation, that he had seen a copy of the letters, (which was not true,) it was from this time determined to dismiss him. This affair, however, paved his way for a call, which he received about this time from Berlin, which he accepted. On Whitsunday 1691, he preached his farewell sermon at the chapel royal at Dresden, on the gospel of John iii. 16, — 21. And on the second Sunday after Trinity he preach ed his introductory sermon in St. Nicholas church in Berlin, on Luke xiv. 24. He always prayed that God would grant his latter years to be his best ; and, in that, he was graciously heard and answered. At the command of the elector, he prepared a treatise entitled, " The deliverance of the gospel church from false accusations of division and communication with all heretics." And, not long before his death, he finished, in manuscript, "A defence of the testimony of the Godhead of our Lord Jesus Christ." From which writings the situa tion of the church at that time may be clearlyseen. In the particular duties of his office in Berlin he published sixty-six sermons on the important article " of regenera tion :" And he paraphrased and explained the epistle to the Galatians, and the first epistle of St.- John. At this period also, he wrote his famous treatise " upon true and saving faith." We come now to speak of his death, which, according to the wise direction of the Lord of life and death, hap pened on the fifth of February, 1705. His whole life being exemplary, there could be no room to doubt but his death would be edifying; and that the promise pf Psalm xxxii.8. would he fulfilled yn him. As soon as he was seized with his lastillness, he sent for Baron Hilderbrand van Canstein, and said to him in private, The Lord being about to call him hence, he begged that the celebrated ' Riveti hora naoissinucf i. e. ' Dr. Rivet's last hours,' which be had read in his younger days with much pleasure, might be brought SPENER. 125 brought him. Among the rest, the following was very pleasant to him : ' Thou art the teacher of souls: I have learned more true divinity within these ten days, than I have been able to do in the space of fifty years before.' About a fortnight before his death, when he entered upon his seventy-first year, he supposed the Lord would be pleased to make the day he was born into this world, the day of his departure into the other. When the clock struck five in the afternoon, being the hour of his birth, with a loud voice he praised God for all the favours conferred on him ; at the same time shedding abundance of tears, and making a most tender confession of all his s'ns, the pardon whereof he most earnestly implored. ' That which most affected me, says his biographer, was to hear him express how unprofitable a servant he had been, and how small 3 part of his life he had consecrated to the service of God. This made by so much a deeper impression upon my heart, by how much the better I knew how willingly he offered up himself as a daily sacrifice to be spent in doing the will of God.' , Some days before his death, he gave order (hat nothing (not so much as one thread) of black should be in his coffin ; " For, said he, I have been a sorrowful man these many years, lamenting the. deplorable state of Christ's church militant here on earth ; but now, being Upon the point of retiring into the church triumphant in " heaven, I will not have the least mark of sorrow left upon me ; but my body shall be wrapped up all over in white, for a testimony that I die in expectation of a better and more glorious state to come." The day before he died, he caused the seventeenth chapter of St. John's gospel to be read to him, three times successively. It was one of his favourite chapters, yet he could never be prevailed on to preach upon it : He always said, he did not understand it. On the same day he spoke much of Simeon's departure ; and* though weak and low, he did not forbear to bless all those that came to see him. Towards evening he fell into a slumber, which continued for the most part till the next morning. When he awoke, he saluted those that were about him ; after which, at his own request, he was set up in a chair ; but in a little while, as they were endear vouring to put him into his bed again, the thread of his life failed, and he suddenly expired in the arms of his wife, in the seventy-first year of his age. His Works. He published several Tracts and Sermons; but his last and greatest work was that which he finished not long before his death " On the Divinity of Christ " 126 HOWE. JOHN HOWE, A.M. V ERY few men have been more justly esteemed, and more respectfully spoken of, by persons of all persuasiong in religion, than the learned, amiable, faithful, and evan gelic pastor, Mr. John Howe. We shall take the summary of his life, for the most part, as it has been already extracted by the laborious compiler of the memoirs of nonconformist ministers, Mr. S. Palmer, though, at the same time, we would refer those, who wish for a more enlarged account, to the ori ginal memoir which Dr. Edmund Calamy, jun. has laid before the world. We regret, that our compass will not allow us to say more, where so much might be said, for the pious, reader's delight and advantage. Mr. Howe was born on the 17fh of May lfi30, at Loughborough, in Leicestershire, where his father was set tled by Archbishop Laud, but afterwards turned out by him for not giving into that nice and punctilious conformity,1 upon which that warm and ill-judging prelate laid an unaccountable stress, and driven into Ireland ; whither he took his son, then very young, and where their lives were remarkably preserved during the execrable rebellion and massacre. In the time of the war the father returned and settled in Lancashire, where his son had his grammar learning. He was sent early to Christ Church College in Cambridge, where his great attainments in learning, joined with his exemplary piety, so recommended him, that he was elected fellow of Magdalen College in Oxford, after' he had been made demy by the parliament-visitors^ At this time Dr. Thomas Goodwin was president of that col lege, and had gathered a church among the scholars ; of which Mr. Howe had for some time hesitated to become a member, owing to some peculiarities among them, for which (says Dr. Calamy) he had no fondness ; but at length j being admitted upon catholic terms, he complied with Dn Goodwin's request, and joined himself to this religious society. So early was he averse to all bigotry ! He was ordained at Winwick in Lancashire, by Mr. C. Herle, the pastor of that church, and the ministers who officiated in the From die OTupnaUHcQa-c in che -Library ,fied Croft j H 0 W E. 127 the several chapels In this parish; on which account he would sometimes say, that he thought few in modern times had so truly primitive an ordination, as he consi dered Mr. Herle as a primitive Bishop. By an unexpected providence he was called to Torrington in Devon; where, though young, he abundantly fulfilled his ministry, which was blessed with great success. He had a numerous au ditory and a flourishing church, to which many of the inhabitants joined themselves who belonged to an inde pendent church at Biddeford, having had a dismission from thence. The manner in which he was used to carry ort the service here, on fast days (which then were very frequent) was very extraordinary. He began at nine with a prayer of a quarter of an hour— read and ex pounded Scripture for about three quarters — prayed an hour — preached another —then prayed half an hour. The people then sung about a quarter of an hour, during which he retired and took a little refreshment. He then came into the pulpit again, prayed an hour more — preached another-hour — and then with a prayer of half an hour concluded the service. And ' a sort of service (says Dr. Calamy very truly) that few could have gone through without inexpressible weariness both to themselves and their auditories !' — He was upon good terms with the neighbouring ministers* particularly Mr. G> Hughes of Plymouth,- whose daughter he married. With him he car ried on a weekly correspondence in Latin letters. The following circumstance in one of them is remarkable : Mr. Howe's house being on fire, was extinguished by a seasonable shower. On that very day he received a letter from his father Hughes, which concluded with this prayer: * Sit Ros ceeli super hdbitaculum vestrum ; i. e. Let the dew of heaven be upon your dwelling,' Mn Howe became chaplain to Cromwell, by the protector's own over-bearing impor tunity, which never endured a refusal. He entered upon this office with great reluctance, and never abused the in fluence it gave him to injure others or to enrich himself; but used it to serve the interest of religion and learning among persons of very different sentiments. His conduct in respect to Dr. Seth Ward* afterwards successively Bi shop of Exeter and Sarum, deserves particular notice. The Doctor applied, by means of Mr Howe, for the principalship of Jesus College in 1657; but it had been pro mised to another. However, Mr. Howe so strongly re commended him to the Protector, that he gave him an annual allowance equivalent to it ; and the Doctor retained a grateful 128 HOWE. a grateful sense of the favour, when, upon the change of times, he became a greater man. Mr. Howe always ap peared so disinterested, that the protector once said to him, ' You have obtained many favours for others, I wonder when the time is to come that you will move for something for yourself and family.' This principle made him faithful in the discharge of his duty. The following is a remarkable instance of it : The notion of a particular faith in prayer, with respect to the obtaining of particular blessings, had prevailed much at Cromwell's court ; and Mr. Howe once heard a sermon there from a person of note designed to defend it. Being fully convinced of the ill tendency of such an opinion, he thought himself bound in conscience, when it came to his turn to preach, to op-" pose it ; which accordingly he did with great plainness. Cromwell heard with great attention, but sometimes frown ed and discovered great uneasiness, insomuch that a person who was present told Mr. Howe, it would be difficult ever to make his peace with him again. Mr. Howe replied, " I have discharged my conscience, and leave the event with God." Nothing, however, passed between them on the subject, though Cromwell seemed cooler towards him than before. After Richard Cromwell was set aside, Mn Howe returned to his people at Torrington. At the resto-i ration he met with some trouble, being informed against as delivering something treasonable in the pulpit, but was very honourably acquitted. When the act of uniformity took place, he quitted his public station in the church, and became a silenced nonconformist, after having preached two affecting sermons to his pieople on Bartholomew-Day* in which he gave them some reasons why he could not comply with the act. Doctor (afterwards Bishop) Wilkins, (with whom he had maintained a long intimacy) on seeing him soon after this, expressed his surprize that a man of Mr. Howe's latitude should have stood out; He told him, that he would gladly have been under the establishment, if he could have compassed it with satisfaction to his con science ; but that, having weighed the matter with all possible impartiality, he could not do it; and that his latitude was the very thing that made him a nonconformist. But his principal reason was, the little vital religion that appeared in the establishment, which, he thought, would eventually sap its foundations. Some rulers in the church at that time (to use a simile of the excellent Bishop Wilkins upon the occasion) ' were for setting the top on the picked end downwards, and so could not keep it up ; but If O W E. 129 »ut by whipping and scourging; whereas, if they had set it on its broad end downwards, it would have stood firm of itself. The " lawfulness of eating black-puddings (as Mr. Howe observed to the same effect on another occasion) would be a juster ground of controversy than any point of the disputed conformity." The doctor appeared satisfied, and advised him as a friend to stand to his principles. Mr*. Howe continued some time in Devonshire, preaching in private houses as he had opportunity. Being acquainted that an officer of the bishop's court had inquired after him, he rode to Exeter, where he met with a friend, a dignified clergyman, who acquainted the bishop that Mr. Howe was there; upon which his Lordship expressed a de sire to see him, and received him with great civility as his old acquaintance, but expostulated with him about his non conformity, and desired to know the reasons. Mr. Howe* waving many others, only mentioned re-ordination. ' Why, prayj Sir, said the bishop, what hurt is there in being re-ordained ?' " Hurt ! my Lord, said Mr. Howe* it is shocking ; it hurts my understanding ; it is an absur dity; for nothing can have two beginnings." The bishop dropping the matter, told him, as he had done at other times, that if he would come in among them he might have considerable preferments ; and dismissed him in A friendly manner * without iany thing being said on either side about the process that was issued out against him ; and accordingly there the matter ended. In 1665, he took the oath required by the Oxford act upon the same principle as Dr. Bates and others did in London: But, notwitbstandingihewasthis year imprisoned two months in the. isle of St. Nicholas, though upon what occasion it doth not appear. In 1671, being reduced to straits, he accepted an invi^ tation from a person of quality in Ireland. Being de tained by contrary winds on the Welch coast, (probably at Holyhead) he continued there a Lord's Day. The com pany, being desirous he should preach to them, were seeking a convenient place, when they met the parish minister and his clerk riding to the town. One of them asked the clerk, whether his master preached that day ? who answered* ' No ; my master does not use to preach, he only reads prayers.' On being asked further, whether he would give leave for a minister who was there to use his pulpit, he replied, ' Very willingly ;' which accqrdingly he did. Mr. Howe preached. In the after noon the audience was very large, and seemed much af- VOL. IV. K fected 130 HOW E. fected. The wind contihued contrary all the week. The next Lord's Day, there was a prodigious multitude gathered together ; and the clergyman, having no expectation of further assistance, was in great consternation, being not able to preach himself, and thinking if there were no preaching it would greatly lessen his reputation. He there fore sent his clerk to Mr. Howe;1 and begged he would come and preach again, as otherwise he knew not what to do, the. country being come in for several miles to hear him. Mr. Howe being much indisposed was in a sweat in bed. But, considering it as a plain call of Providence, he cooled himself as speedily as he could with safety, and, cast ing himself on God, went and preached with great free dom. He said he never saw people more moved, and that, if ever his ministry was of use, it was then. Very soon after, the vessel sailed, and he felt no ill effects. In Ireland he li ved as chaplain to the Lord Massarene at Antrim, where he was universally respected, and enjoyed the particular friendship of the bishop of that diocese, who, together with his metropolitan, gave him liberty to preach, without de manding any conformity, in the public church, every Lord's Day afternoon. And the Archbishop, at a meeting of the clergy, told theih, that he would have Mr. Howe have every pulpit, where he had any concern, open to him. By his preaching and conversation here he was useful to many. Upon the death of Dr. Seaman, 1675, he was invited by a part of his congregation to fix in London. After ma ture deliberation, and weighing the arguments on both- sides, (which he drew out in writing) he consented to go, and made a peaceable use of King Charles's indulgence. He preached to a considerable and judicious audience, and was much respected not only by his brethren among the dissent ers, but by several eminent divines of the church of Eng land, v. g. Doctors Whitchcote, Kidder, Fowler, Lucas, &c. with whom he often freely and familiarly conversed. In regard to the steps taken in order to a coalition be tween the church and the dissenters, some of the dignified clergy sent for him to their houses, ( Bishop Lloyd, Sherlock, &c.) and expressed great deference to his opinion. He had a particular intimacy with Dr. TiUotson, (afterwards Arch bishop) in respect to whom the following anecdote is wor thy of notice. The dean, as he then was, (1680) preached a sermon at court, on Josh. xxiv. 15. in which lie asserted,. that ' no man is obliged to preach against the religion of a country, though a- false one, unless he has the power of working miracles.' King Charles slept most of the time. When HOWE. 131 When the sermon was over, a certain nobleman said to him, ' It's pity your majesty slept, for we have had the rarest piece of Hobbism that ever you heard in your life.' ' Odds fish, said the king, he shall print it then ;' and immediately called the Lord Chamberlain to give his command to the d^an to do it. When it came from the press, the dean, as Was usual with him, sent it as a present to Mr. Howe, who, on the perusal, was grieved to find a sentiment which had so ill a tendency, and drew up a long letter, in which he freely expostulated with the dean for giving such a wound to the Reformation, and carried it himself. The dean, upon the sight of it, moved for a little journey into the country, that they might talk the matter over without interruption. Mr. Howe enlarged on the contents of the letter as they travelled in the chariot. The dean at length wept, and said, this was the most unhappy thing that had befallen him for a long time ; owned, that what he had asserted was not to be maintained, and urged in his excuse, that he had but little notice of preaching that day, and none of printing the sermon. When, in 1684, Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln ± printed a let ter for putting into execution the laws against dissenters, Mr. Howe wrote a free answer to it, of which a copy may be seen in his Mem. p. 104 — 112. The next year, the pro spect of the dissenters being v.ery dark, he accepted an in vitation of Lord Wharton to travel with him abroad. In the course of his travels, he had the satisfaction to converse with a number of learned papists, and protestant divines* In 1686, having no encouragement to return, he settled at Utrecht, where the Earl of Sunderland and his Countess, some English gentlemen, and two of his own nephews, boarded with him. During this time, he took his turn with Mr. Mat. Mead, &c. who were there also, in preaching at the English church, and in the evening preached to his own family. He was of great use to several English students then at the university, and much respected by its professors, as well as by several persons of distinction from England, among whom was Dr. G. Burnet, afterwards Bishop of Sarum, with whom he had much free conversation. The Prince of Orange, afterwards William III. admitted him several times into his presence, and discoursed with him with great freedom, as he sometimes did, after he ascended the British throne. Upon King James's declaration for liberty of conscience in 1687, Mr Howe's flock in London earnestly pressed his return, and he readily complied. He waited upon the Prince of 182 HOW E. of Orange first, who advised him to be cautious of address ing, and not to fall in with the measures of the court. He was thankful for a little breathing-time, and endeavoured to improve it to the best purposes, and to preserve himself and others from the snares laid for them, always declaring against approving the dispensing power. When those fears were blown over by the revolution, Mr. Howe, at the head of the dissenting ministers, made an handsome address to the Prince of Orange at St. James's, which has been printed. On the passing the toleration act, he addressed a small tract both to conformists and dissenters, with a view to promote mutual forbearance. With the same truly Christian design, he afterwards [1693] published his ser mon on the " Carnality of religious contentions," when unhappy differences had taken place among the dissenting ministers, occasioned chiefly by the reprinting the posthu mous woncs of Dr. Crisp, who, though a good man, was charged with some Antinomian notions. These debates, however, issued in the exclusion of Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Williams from the lecture at Pinner's Hall, when Mr. Howe, Dr. Bates, and Mr. Alsop joined him in carrying on a sepa rate lecture at Salter's Hall. Warm debates soon followed^ concerning the Trinity and occasional conformity, in which Mr. Howe engaged with great moderation, Christian meek ness, and charity ; greatly lamenting the want of these in others, and desiring to breathe a nobler air and inhabit better regions. * The last thing he published was, a " Dis course * I know not how to omit entertaining my readers with a short ex tract from Mr. Howe's sermon on Dr. Bates's death, which breathes a sweet spirit uf piety and kindness upon this ever-to-be lamented subject of parties and breaches among real Christians. His words are: " Think me not so vain, as to reckon, exclusively, the cause of dissenters, the cause I now speak of: No, no; I speak of the common cause, of all se rious, sober-minded Christians, within the common rule, or without it. I neither think any one party to include all sobriety of mind, r way of religion, to serve a carnal design for yourself or your party, not to save your soul, you commit the most detestable sacrilege, and alienate the most sacred thing iu the world, Religion, from its true end ; which will not only lose that cad, but infer an heavy vengeance. Yea, and it is too possible to transgress HOWE. 139 lated to his life and times. » On a blank page in his Bible were found two remarkable passages, written with his own hand in Latin, of which the following is a translation : f Dec 26, 89. After that I had long, seriously, and re peatedly thought with myself, that besides a full and un doubted assent to the objects of faith, a vivifying savoury taste and relish of them was also necessary, that with stronger transgress dangerously, by preferring that which is less, though never SO confidently thought to be divine, before that which is greater, or se parately from its true end. You greatly prevaricate, if you are more zealously intent to promote independency than Christianity, presbytery than Christianity, prelacy than Christianity, as any of these are the in terest of a party, and not considered in subserviency to the Christian in terest, nor designed for promoting the edification and salvation of your own soul. But that being your design, living religion will keep your eye upon your end, and make you steady, and constantly true to that and to your rule, without which you can never hope to reach your end. " Now hereupon such as conform to the public establishment, and they that dissent from it, may differ from each other upon a twofold ac count: Either, 1. as judging the contrary way to be simply unlawful: Or, 2. as judging it to be no less edifying. 'Tis not the' business of this paper to discuss who herein judge aright, and who wrong: But, supposing their judgment to remain as it is, (which they themselves bow- ever should examine, and, if it be wrong, rectify,) I shall say somewhat to each of these cases. " To the former, while your judgment continues as it is, it is true you cannot join in worship with the contrary minded : But nothing for bids but you can be kind, conversible, courteous towards them ; and your common Christian profession (besides the rules of humanity) obliges you so to be: Yea, and even to converse with them as occasion invites, more intimately as Christians, the visible marks of serious Christianity appearing in them. " To the latter sort, it is acknowledged, you cannot constantly join in worship with those of the contrary -way, because you ought ordinarily to worship God in that way which you judge to be best and most agree able to the divine rule, (though you are not obliged utterly to abandon any for its imperfections and corruptions, that is not corrupt in the very essentials,) and you ought most frequently to attend to that which you find to be most edifying to your own soul, as that should be your more ordinary diet that best agrees with you. That way. therefore, you must most constantly adhere to, which is most grateful and sa voury to you, because you cannot so much edify by what you less re. li.sh. But your judgment and latitude will well allow you sometimes to frequent the assemblies with which you hold not constant commu nion. And if it will allow, it willalso direct you thereto for a valuable end ; as that you may signify, yqu ordinarily decline them not as no Christians, or their worship as no worship, but as more defective, or less edifying, and that you may maintain love, and both express and beget a disposition to nearer union. And if our rulers shall judge such intercourse! conducing to so desirable an end, they may perhaps in clue time think it reasonable to put things into that state, that ministeis of both sorts may be capable of inviting one another occasionally to the; brotherly offices of mutual assistance in each other's congregations. For which, and all things that tend to make us an happy people, we must wait upon Him in whose hands their hearts are,". 140 HOWE. stronger force and more powerful energy, they might pe netrate into the most inward centre of my heart, and there being most deeply fixed and rooted, govern my life ; and that there could be no other sure ground whereon to con clude and pass a sound judgment on my good estate God- ward ; and after I had in my course of preaching been largely insisting on 2 Cor. i. 12. This very morning I awoke out of a most ravishing and delightful dream, that a wonderful and copious stream of celestial rays, from the lofty throne of the divine Majesty, seemed to dart into my expanded breast. I have often since, with great com-i placency, reflected on that very signal pledge of special divine favour vouchsafed to me on that noted memorable dav, and have with repeated fresh pleasure tasted the de lights thereof." " But what (on Oct. 22, 1701,) of the same kind I sensibly felt, through the admirable bounty of my God, and the most pleasant comforting influence of the Holy Spirit, far surpassed the most expressive words my thoughts can suggest. I then experienced an inex pressibly pleasant melting of heart, tears gushing out of mine eyes, for joy that God should shed abroad his love .abundantly through the hearts of men, and that for this very purpose mine own should be so signally possessed of and by his blessed Spirit. Rom. v. 5." His person was tall and graceful. He had a piercing but pleasant eye ; and had that in his aspect which indicated something uncommonly great, and tended to excite vene ration. To those who are at all acquainted with his writings, his intellectual accomplishments need no com mendation. Even Mr. Anthony Wood passes an high en comium upon him, and, which is very extraordinary, upon his style, which is least to be admired of any thing in his performances. His ministerial qualifications were singular. He could preach off-hand with as great exactness as many- others upon the closest study. His sermons, which he always delivered without notes, were often of uncommon depth, especially at the beginning, but were plain in the sequel, and towards the close generally came home with great pungency to the consciences of the hearers. He had great copiousness and fluency in prayer. To hear him pray upon sutlden emergencies might have abated the pre possession of those who venture to cavil at free prayer. He was a person of remarkable prudence, and laid great stress upon it in others; and was very courteous to stran gers, never thinking religion inconsistent with good-breed ing. He knew how to address himself suitably to the greatest HOWE. 141 greatest persons, without the least mixture of meanness, and yet could condescend to the meanest. . He was very affable to young ministers, and ever ready to offer them the kindest advice. He had a truly great soul, and seemed to be born to support generous principles, a truly catholic spirit, and an extensive charity : And in this respect he has been compared to the excellent Martin Bucer. In many cases he discovered a remarkable sagacity, particu larly in regard to public affairs and political manoeuvres. In conversation he was often very facetious. Some of his sudden repartees deserve to be recorded. Being at din ner with some persons of fashion, a gentleman expatiated largely in praise of Charles I. and made some disagree able reflections upon others. Mr. Howe, observing, that he mixed many horrid oaths with his discourse, told him, that in his humble opinion he had omitted one great ex cellence in the character of that prince ; which, when the , gentleman had pressed him to mention, and waited with impatience to hear it, he told him it was this: " That he was never heard to swear an oath in common conversa tion." The gentleman took the reproof, and promised to break off the practice. . Another time he passed two per sons of quality, who were talking with great eagerness, and damned each other repeatedly. Upon which, taking off his hat, he said to them, " I pray God save you both;" for which they both gave him their thanks. At the time when the occasional conformity bill was debated in par liament, he passed a noble Lord in a chair in St. James's Park, who sent his footman to call him, desiring to speak with him upon this subject. In the conversation, speaking of the opponents of the dissenters, 'he said, ' Damn these wretches, for they are mad,' &c. Mr* Howe, who was no stronger to the nobleman, expressed great satisfaction in the thought that there is a God who governs the world, who will finally make retribution to all according to their present character. " And he* my Lord, (says he) has de clared, he will make a difference between him that sweareth and him that feareth an oath." The nobleman was struck with the hint, and said, ' I thank you, Sir, for your free dom: I take your meaning, and shall endeavour to make a good use of it.' Mr. Howe replied, " My Lordj I have more reason to thank your Lordship for saving me the most difficult part of a discourse, which is the application." His Works are: I, " A Sermon on Man's Creation in an holy, but mutable State, from Eccles. vii. 29." It is to be met with in ' the Morning Exercise methodized,' printed 14S HOW E. in 1660. II. " A Treatise on the Blessedness of tne Righteous, from Psal. xvii. 15." being sermons preached ' while he was at Torrington, Printed 1668. III. " The Vanity of this Mortal Life, or of Man, considered only in this present Mortal State, from Psal. lxxxix. 47, 48.'* [which discourse is usually bound up with' his " Blessed ness of the Righteous."] There is an epistle before this sermon, dated from Antrim in 1671. IV. " A Treatise of delighting in God. 1674. V. " The living Temple of Goo, octavo, 1675." This, with its second part, pub lished in 1702, is esteemed his master-piece. VI. A tract, entitled, " The Reconcileableness of God's Prescience of the Sins of Men, with the Wisdom and Sincerity of his Counsels and Exhortations, and whatever other Means he uses to prevent them, octavo. 1677." VII. A pamphlet, entitled, " A Letter out of the Country to a Person of Quality in the City, who took Offence at the late Sermon of Dr. Stillingfleet, Dean of St. Paul's, before the Lord Mayor." 1680. VIII. " Thoughtfulness for the Morrow, with an Appendix, concerning the immoderate Desire of foreknowing Things to come," octavo. To which is added, " A Discourse of Charity, in reference to other Men's Sins, from 1 Cor. xiii. 6. 1681." IX, " A Funeral Ser mon on the Death of Mrs. Margaret Baxter, from 2 Cor. v. 8. 1681." X. " Of the Name of God in Prayer, from Jerem. xiv. 21. octavo. 1682." XI. " A Discourse on Self-Dedication, duod. 1682." XII. " A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Mr. Richard Fairclough, from Matth. xxv. 21. 1682." This year he drew up those " Annotations on the three Epistles of St. John," which are in the second volume, or continuation of Mr. Pool. XIII. " A Sermormipon Colos. ii. 2. upon this question, What may most hopefully be attempted to allay Animo sities among Protestants, that our Divisions may not be our Ruin? 1683." Her afterwards (1701) wrote " Some Consideration of a Preface to an Enquiry concerning the occasional Conformity of Dissenters ;" which may serve as an appendix to this sermon. XIV. " A Treatise on Luke xix. 41, 42. entitled, Tire Redeemer's Tears wept over lost Souls ; with an Appendix concerning the Blasphemy against the Holy Ghest, and how God is said to will the Salvation of them that perish. 1684." XV. " A Sermon from Job v. 42. directing what we are to do after strict Enquiry, whether or no we truly love God. 1688." XVI. " Two Sermons' on Rom. vi. 13. Yield yourselves to God. 1688." XVII. " A Funeral Sermon on the Death of HOWE. 143 of Mrs. J. Hammond. 1689." XVIII. " The Carnality of Christian Contention, in two Sermons preached at the Merchants' Lecture in Broad Street. 1693." XIX. At his first Turn at the new Lecture at Salter's Hall, " A Sermon from Isa. Ixiv. 7. 1694." XX. " A calm and sober Enquiry Concerning the Possibility of a Trinity in the Godhead, in a Letter to a Person of worth. 1694." To which were added, some " Letters formerly written to Dr. Wallis on the same Subject," In the same year he published " A Letter to a Friend concerning ' A Post script to the Defence of Dr. Sherlock's Notion of the Tri nity in Unity,' in which his " Calm and sober Enquiry" was reflected upon," After this came out ' Some Consi derations on the Explications of the Doctrine of the Tri nity, in a Letter to H. H.' And Mr. Howe being con cerned in it, he published " A View of those Considera tions, in a Letter to the former Friend. 1695." XXI. "A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Esther Sampson, from Luke xiii. 16. 1689." XXII. " A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Queen Mary. 1695." XXIII. " A Ser mon preached on theDay of Thanksgiving, Dec. 2, 1697." And another, " To the Societies for Reformation of Manners, from Rom. xiii. 4. 1697." X XIV. " A Fune ral Sermon on the Death of the Reverend Richard Adams, A. M. 1697-8." ' XXV. " A Funeral Sermon on the Death of the Reverend Mr. Matthew Mead. 1699." XXVI. " A Funeral Sermon on tlie Death of John Hoghton, Esq. concerning the Redeemer's Dominion over the invisible World, and the Entrance thereinto by Death. 1699." XXVII. " On the Death of the Reverend Dr. William Bates. 1699." XXVIII. " A Discourse on Man's Enmity against God, and Reconciliation between God a»i Man, from Col. i. 21. 1701." XXIX. In 1702 he published " A second part of the Living Temple," containing animadversions on Spinosa, and a French writer pretending to confute him ; with a recapitulation of the part, and "an account of the destitution and restitution of God's temple amongst men. XJLX. " A Funeral Ser mon on the Death of the Reverend Peter Vink, B. D. 1702." XXXI. " A Sermon on Col. i. 13. preached on the 5th of November 1703." XXXII. " The last thing he published, was " A Discourse on Patience, relating to the expectation of future Blessedness," to which there was afterwards added " An Appendix," which came out in 1705. Since his death, his Works have been collected and published in two volumes, folio. Besides 144 BEVERIDGE, Besides the above, he wrote several " Prefaces" to the works of others; as to Mr. Chorlton's Funeral Sermon on the death of Mr. Henry Newcome of Manchester; — to the third volume of Dr. Manton's Sermons, by way of dedication to King William, in 1689; — to Mr. Flavel's Discourse of Mental Errors, &c. Several volumes of ser mons (says Mr. Palmer) taken in short-hand as they were preached, have since his death been published, viz. two by Dr. Evans and. Dr. Harris, " on the Spirit's Influence on the Church," — and on " Particular Persons :" — Another by Dr. Evans, " on Family Religion," 12mo. — and two' more by Mr. Fletcher, " on the Love of Gpi>," &e, 8vo. 1744. WILLIAM BEVERIDGE, D.D, * - BISHOP ov St, ASAPH. y''k i * 1 HIS excellent Prelatey who, by his learning am! piety, was one of the brightest ornaments to the church of England in his time, was born at Barrow in Leicester shire, in the year 1638. He was educated at St. John's College, Cambridge, where he applied with gi"eat assidu ity to the study of the oriental languages, and made such proficiency iii this part. of learning, that at eighteen years of age he wrote a treatise of the excellency and use of the oriental tongues* especially the Hebrew, Chaldee^ Syriac, Arabic, and Samaritan, with a Syriaxr Grammar. The 3d of January 1660-1, he was [ordained deacon by Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, and priest the 31st of that month, and about the same time was presented to the vicarage of Ealing in Middlesey, which he resigned about a year after, upon his being chosen rector of St. Peter's, Cornhill, by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London. He applied himself to the discharge of his ministry, with the utmost zeal and assiduity. ' He was highly instructive in his discourses from the pulpit, and his labours were crown ed with such success, that he was styled ' The great reviv er and restorer of primitivepiety.' Bishop Hinchman, his diocesan, having conceived a great esteem for him, collated him ¦&/*&&# as tie Arc directs ¦ JHardi'Ei.qBZ. BEVERIDGE. 145 hirA to the prebend of Chiswick, in the cathedral of St. Paul's, on the 22d of December 1674 ; and this bishop's successor, Dr. Compton, conferred upon him the archdea conry of Colchester, on the 3d of November 1681. No vember the 5th, 1684, he was installed prebendary of Can terbury, and about the same time was appointed chaplain to King William and Queen Mary. In 1691 he was offered, btit refused to accept of, the see of Bath and Wells, vacant by the deprivation of Dr. Kenn, for not taking the oaths to King William and Queen Mary. But some time time after he accepted of that of St. Asaph, and was consecrated July 16, 1704. Upon his advancement to the episcopal chair, he wrote a most pathetic letter to the clergy of his diocese, recommending to them " The duty of catechizing and instructing the people committed to their charge in the principles of the Christian religion, to the end they might know what they were to believe, and do, in order to sal vation." And. to enable tbem to do this the more effec tually, he sent them a plain exposition upon the church catechism. This good Prelate did not enjoy his episcopal station above three years and some months, for he died March the 5th, 1707, in the 71st year of his age, and was buried in St. Paul's cathedral. He left the greatest part of his estate to the Societies for Propagating Christian Knowledge. To the curacy of Mount Sorrel, and vicarage of Barrow, in the county of Leicester, he bequeathed twenty pounds a-year, on condition that prayers be read morning andevenlng every day, according to the liturgy of the church of England, in the chapel and parish church aforesaid ; with the sum of forty shillings yearly, to be divided equally upon Christmas Eve among eight poor house-keepers of Barrow, as the minister and church wardens should agree. Bishop Beveridge has had a high character given him by several writers. The author of a letter published in the Guardian, having made an extract out of the bishop's first sermon in the second volume, relating to the Deity, tells us, that it may for acuteness of judgment, ornament of speech, and true sublime, compare with any of the choicest writings of the ancient fathers, or doctors of the church, who lived nearest to the apostles' times. Dr. Henry Felton, in his dissertation on reading the classics and forming a just style, written in the year 1709, &c. tells us, ' That our learned and venerable Bishop hath de livered himself with those ornaments alone, which his subject suggested to him, and hath written in that plain- VOL. IV. L ness 146 BEVERIDGE. ness and solemnity of style, that gravity and simplicity, which give authority to the sacred truths he teacheth, and unanswerable evidence to the doctrines he defendeth -, that there is something so great, primitive, and apostolical in his writings, that it creates an awe and veneration in our mind. That the importance of his subjects is above the decoration of words, and what is great and majestic in itself, looketh most like itself, the less it is adorned. The true sublime in the" great articles of our faith is lodged in the plainest words. The divine Revelations are best ex pressed in the language they were revealed in ; and, as I observed before of the Scriptures, they will suffer no or nament, nor amendment.1 Thus Dr. Felton. Another writer gives this character of our excellent Bishop : ' This great and good Bishop had very early ad dicted himself to piety and a religious course of life, of which his Private Thoughts upon Religion will be a lasting evidence. They were written in his younger years ; and he must, a considerable time before this, have devoted himself to such practices, otherwise he could never have drawn up so judicious and sound a declaration of his faith, nor have formed such excellent resolutions so agreeable to the Christian life in all its parts. These things shew him to be acquainted with the life and power of religion long before, and that even from a child he knew the Holy Scrip tures. And as his piety was early, so it was very eminent and conspicuous, in all the parts and stations of his life. As he Ijad formed such good resolutions, he made suitable im provements upon them ; and they, at length, grew up into such settled habits, that all his actions savoured of nothing but piety and religion. His holy example was a very great ornament to our church ; and he honoured his profession and function by zealously discharging all the duties thereof. How remarkable was his piety towards God ! What an awful sense of the Divine Majesty did' he always express ! How did he delight in his worship and service, and frequent his house of prayer ! How great was his charity to- men ; how earnestly, was he concerned for their welfare, as his pathetic addresses to them in his discourses plainly discover ! How did the Christian spirit run through all his actions, and what a wonderful pat tern was he of primitive purity, holiness, and devotion ! As he was remarkable for his great piety and zeal for religion, so he was highly to be esteemed for his learning, which he. wholly applied to promote the interest of his great BEVERIDGE. 147 great Master. He was one of extensive and almost uni versal reading : He was well skilled in the oriental lan guages, and the Jewish learning, as may appear from many of his sermons ; and, indeed, he was furnished to a very eminent degree with all useful knowledge. He was very much to be admired for his readiness in the Scriptures s He had made it his business to acquaint himself thoroughly with those sacred oracles, whereby he was furnished unto all good works: He was able to produce suitable passages from them on all occasions, and was very happy in explain ing them to others. Thus he improved his time and his abilities in serving God and doing good, till he arrived at a good old age, when it pleased his great Master to give him rest from hislabours, and to assign him a place inthoseman- sions of bliss, where he had always laid up his treasure, and to which his heart had been all along devoted throughout the whole course of his life and actions. He was so highly esteemed among all learned and good men, that when he was dying, one of the chief of his order deservedly said of him, ' There goes one of the greatest, and one of the best men> that ever England bred.' The learned Dr. Lupton, in a letter to Mr. Nelson, occasioned by the publication of Bishop Bull's Sermons, discoursing with great judgment concerning the most proper and useful manner of preaching, in the close, ranks our venerable Prelate with St. Chrysostom himself in these words : ' Those therefore who are censorious enough to reflect with severity upon the pious strains which are to be found in St Chrysostom, Bishop Beveridge, or Bishop Bull, may possibly be good judges of an ode, or an essay, but do not seem to criticise justly upon sermons, or to express a just value for spiritual things.' Notwithstanding these just and candid opinions, it must not be concealed, that the enemies of the truths which this good Bishop maintained, or rather which the church of England maintains in her articles and homilies, (for the Bishop held no other) made a virulent attack upon his writings soon after his decease. At that time, as well as at this, there were people, who could pretend to subscribe the articles ex animo, for preferment, without believing a word of them ; and, not satisfied with this duplicity, could have the effrontery likewise to be very angry with those who conscientiously did believe and honestly pro fessed them. The Bishop has been charged with absur dities upon the doctrine of the Trinity, with downrightCalvinism, 14$ BEVERIDGE. Calvinism, etc. — but, let it be remembered it was by An- titrinitarians, Pelagians, Socinians, and Arminians, who, it must be owned, are not very fair judges upon the case. His " Private Thoughts," than which we have very few more excellent books, have been a particular object of their animadversion. One hundredth, part of this good- man's piety, in his adversaries, would have led them to different conclusions, and have caused at least a silent reverence for a character which very few men of any order are over- disposed to excel. If such men as Whisfen, and Collins his admirer, were to dictate the rules of orthodoxy, we can easily guess what would become of all' the confessions and formularies of faith, which are supported. by divine au thority and by divine grace witnessing their truth in men's hearts and lives ; and, what sort of respect might be shewn, in a very little' time afterwards, to the Bible itself: For the humour of impeaching divine, as well as political positions, knows no end, but subversion and anarchy. However, we have reason to be thankful for that gracious promise, that the gates of hell shall not prevail against the church or truths of God, to the end of the world ; and, therefore, we need not be more deeply concerned, thaa in charity we' ought to be for the self-deluding: innovators themselves, concerning a matter which has the wisdom of God to conduct, and the power of God to support it at all times. Bishop Beveridge left many Works. Those published by himself are as follow: I. De Linguarum Oritnta- lium, prasertim. Htbraica, Chaldaiccc, Syriaace, Arabica, et S'amaritunicce, preeslantid et usu. Lond. 1658. II. /«- stitutionem Chronologicarum libri duo, una cum totidem arithmetices chronologies libellis. Lend. 1669; III. ZvAko-j- sive Pandecta Canonum S. S. apostalorum et oomeiliomm ah Ecclesia Grceca receptorum* . 1693. XVlll. A plain Method of Cate chizing, 8vo. 1698. XIX. The Saints' Convoy to, and Mansions in Heaven, 8vo. 1698. XX. A Complete Bo dy of Practical. Divinity ; being a new Improvement of the Assembly's Catechism, ibl. 1723." iscr HERMAN WITSIUS, D. D. i HE celebrated Dr. Marck of Ley den, in his Latin oration delivered at the interment of .Witsius, gave the most, full account,of his life ; from which account the fol lowing memoir is chiefly extracted. This excellent man of God, and of true science, was born at Enchuysen in West Friesland, on the 12th of Fe bruary 1639, of religious parents, who devoted him to God even from before his birth. ¦ He was named Herman from his mother's father, who was a most pious minister at that, place for above thirty years. He came (as it is called) before his time, and this premature birth had well njgh cost, both mother and son their lives. In conse quence of this, he was, when born, so uncommonly small and weakly, that the midwife, and other women* present, concluded he must die in a few hours. But, herein, God disappointed their fears, and (for what can make void his purpose's?) raised this puny infant, afterwards, into a very great man, (not in body, for he was always spare and thin): A man of vast intellectual abilities, brightened and improved by deep study, and whose fame diffused itself throughout the whole Christian world, by his useful, nu merous, and learned labours. His parents, after this danger, took particular care of his education, and were obliged to be extremely tender of his health. Above all, they endeavoured (and their en deavours were crowned with success equal to their largest wishes) to bring him up in the nurture and admonition of $he Lord: Teaching him, ere he could speak distinctly, to lisp Irom. the orjputal in, diepojsefiiwTi ofdieltcvtMnSootfi. . W I T S I U S. 157 lisp out the praises of God, and unfold bis wants in prayer before the throne of grace. In- the sixth year of his age, he was entered at the public school of his native town, to learn the rudiments of Latin. There he con tinued thiree years; at the end of which space, his mo ther's brother, the learned Peter Gerhard, took him to his own house, and under his own immediate tuition. Under the care of his good uncle, Wit si us made so rapid a progress in learning, that, before he was fifteen years old, he couM not only speak and write the Latin language correctly, and with some degree of fluency, but could also readily interpret the books of the Greek Testament, and the orations of Isocrates, and render the Hebrew com- meataries of Samuel into Latin: At the same time giving the etymology of the original words, and assigning the reasons of the variations of the pointing grammatically. He had, likewise, now acquired some knowledge of philo sophy; and had so far made himself master of logic, that when he was removed to the university, he needed no preeeptor to instruct him in that art. He learned also, while he continued with his uncle, Wakeus's and Burgers- diciusi's Compendiums of Ethics: Which latter author he plied so diligently, that he could at any time repeat by- heart the quotations cited by him from any of the ancient writers, whether Greek or Latin. He acquainted himself, too, with the elements of natural philosophy and meta physics ; and, a§ his. uncle always kept him usefully em ployed, he was likewise master, and that almost by heart, of VVindelin's Compendium of Theology: The good man deeming it an essential and special part of his duty to make his nephew, from his earliest yosith, intimately versed in matters of divinity. His uncle himself had;, from his own childhood, been inured to sanctify the ordinary actions and offices of life, by sending up ejaculatory aspirations to Gob, suitable to the business he was about; in order to which, he had made his memory the store-house of some more eminently useful and familiar texts of Scripture, both of the Old and New Testament, which related or ttiight be accom modated to ever)' part of common life ; so that, when he lay down, rose up, dressed, washed, walked, abroad, stu died, or did any thing else, he could repeat apposite pas sages from the holy Scriptures in their original languages of either Hebrew or Greek ; thereby, in a very eminent manner, acknowledging God in alj his ways, and doing whatsoever 158 WIT SI US. whatsoever he did to his glory. This same excellent practice he recommended to his nephew; which had so •happy an effect, that very many portions, both of the Hebrew Bible and Greek Testament, were, in his youth, so deeply impressed on Witsius's memory, that, even in his old age, he never forgot them. . From his uncle's care he was rehioved to Utrecht. What chiefly recommended this place to him, were the advantages he hoped to gain from the lectures and con versation of those very famous divines, who, atj-hat time, flourished there ; especially Maatsius, Hoornbeck, and Gisbert Voetius. Hither, therefore, he came, A. D. 1651, and in the fifteenth year of his age. But, just before he reached Utrecht, Maatsius was gathered to his fathers; so that, on his arrival, he had only the melancholy satis faction of hearing the great Hoornbeck pronounce the funeral oration over his much-loved friend and colleague. Here he went through a prodigious course of oriental learning ; and he very early gave a specimen of his great proficiency in the Hebrew tongue, by composing a most elegant and masterly oration in that language, De Messia Judceorum et Christianorum ; which, at the request of his master Leusden, he pronounced, with great applause, he- fore the university,' A. D. 1654, and in the eighteenth year of his age. Though he was thus devoted to matters of literature, he, nevertheless, set apart the greater por tion of his time for the study of divinity, to which, as he rightly judged, the others were to act in subserviency. In order to proceed properly in this greatest and best of sciences, he put himself under the guidance of such theo logical professors as were most eminent for profound learning and the exactest skill in the sacred volumes. These were Gisbert Voetius, John Hoornbeck, Walter Bruinius, and Andrew Essenius. About this time, he had a great desire of repairing to Groningen, chiefly with a view to see and hear the celebrated Maresius, then pro fessor of divinity in that university. Hither, therefore, he repaired, towards the latter end of the year 1654. Being arrived, he devoted himself entirely to divinity, under the sole guidance of Maresius, and entered on the exercises previous to preaching. These he performed in the French tongue ; and acquitted himself entirely to the satisfaction of his tutor. Having spent a year at Gronin gen, and obtained ample testimonials of his good beha viour and great abilities from the college of divines, be deter- W I T S I U a 159 determined for Leyden : But, having received informa tion that the plague was making great havoc in that city, he changed his mind, and resolved to revisit Utrecht, that he might there perfect himself in divinity. On his return to Utrecht, he not only, as formerly, at tended all the divinity lectures, both public and private, of the several professors, but entered into a strict and thorough intimacy with that very excellent divine, Bo- gaerdtius, than whom, Witsius was of opinion, a greater man never lived. From his lectures, conversation, ex ample, and prayers, through the grace of the Divine Spirit, Witsius, was enlightened into the mysteries of the Redeemer's kingdom, and led into the comfortable, heart felt enjoyment of inward, spiritual, , and experimental Christianity. Through his means, he first learned how widely different that knowledge of divine things is, which flows from mere learning, study, and acquisition, from that sublime and heaven-taught wisdom, which is the re-j suit of fellowship with Christ by the Holy Ghost ; and which, through his own" powerful. influences on the hearts of his elect, gloriously conforms the believing soul more and more to the blessed image of its Divine Saviour. Witsius always humbly and thankfully acknowledged, that Bogaerdtius was the instrument- God made use of, to lead him into the innermost temple of holy love and gracious experience; whereas, till then, lie stood only in the outer court : But from thenceforward, disclaiming all vain wisdom and self-dependence, he was happily brought to sit down at the feet of Jesus, simply to learn the mys teries of his grace from his blessed teachings alone, and to receive his kingdom as a little child. Nor yet was he so taken up with these delightful and sublime matters, as to omit or slight his academical studies, which appeared from his Theses concerning the Trinity, written about this time : Wherein, with great learning and singular ability, he proved that important doctrine from the writings of the ancient Jews, and shewed how very far the modern. ones were degenerated, in that article, from their rabbins and forefathers. These Theses he debated publicly in the university, under the presidency of Leusden : And al though they were opposed by some of the oldest slanders and ablest disputants in the college, yet Leusden was of opinion, that his young pupil defended his positions so well, and maintained his ground in so firm and masterly a manner, as to stand in need of no assistance from him : Wherefore he sat by the whole time, without interpos- 160 WITSIUS. mg_one word, but left Witsius entirely to himself. And it being customary there, when disputations are over, for the defendant to return thanks to the president for his care and assistance ; when Witsius did this, the president replied, with equal truth and politeness, ' You have no reason, Sir, to make me such an acknowledgment, since you neither had, nor stood in need of any assistance from ine.' This was in the year 16-55, and in the nineteenth year of his age. Being, by this time, very famous in the two Universities of Utrecht and Groningen, it was thought high time for him to enter on an office, wherein he might be made of general service .to the church. Wherefore he presented himself, for his preparatory exa mination, at Enchuysen, A. D. 1656. Here he was ad mitted to preach publicly ; which he did with extraordi" nary reputation and universal applause. At the instigation of that reverend man, John Boisus, minister of the French protestant church at Utrecht, Wit sius, though naturally exceedingly bashful and diffident, was prevailed with to solicit the assembly of French di vines, convened at Dort, for licence to preach publicly, and in the French language, in their churches. This he easily obtained, partly by the influence of the celebrated Anthony Hulsitis, [the excellent author of the Theologia Judaica,] to whom, a^ the request of Boisus, Witsius had written a very elegant epistle in Hebrew. From that time forward, he often preached in French, both at Utrecht and Amsterdam; as, in the course of his ministry, he had done a considerable time before, out of the French pulpit at Leu- warden. But, thinking himself not quite perfect in that language, he purposed taking a journey into France for that end ; as also, that he might have an opportunity of seeing the many eminent divines and university professors, who then flourished in the protestant parts of that kingdom. But Divine Providence was pleased to order matters other wise; for in the year 1657, and the twenty-first of his age, he had a regular call from the church at Westwouden^ to be their minister; and into this office he was initiated on the 8th of July in the same year. Here he waited on God and his church for upwards of four years ; and, being in the prime of life, was the better able to discharge the duties of his function with activity and diligence. He had the satisfaction to see his labours succeed, especially among the younger sort, Whom he very frequently catechized, with great sweetness and condescension, accommodating himseli to their understandings, insomuch that both the children and WITSIiUS. 161 Bnd youth of the place, who, at his first. coming there, were quite ignorant of every thing, .could not only give a judicious account in the principal heads in divinity, but could also confirm and support the account they gave with numerqus and pertinent quotations from Scripture : And, when they came home from church, and were, at any time, questioned as to the sermon they had heard, they could, without any trouble, recapitulate the chief parti culars qf the discourse, its subject, divisions, doctrines, and improvements. When the feme of pur learned and able pastor began to reach far and wide, he received an invitation from the church of Wprmeren* in the same province of North (Holland, ,to be their minister : a church famous for its numbers, but, at that time, sadly harassed with intestine jars and divisions ; and who, therefore, thought they could not chqose a pastor more capable of edifying his flock, and of calming their dissensions, than Witsius. To- this call of their's he acceded, and undertook the ministry of that church in, the month of October 1661, and the twenty- fifth year of his age. Here he staid four years and an half: So reconciling all parties, and building them up in the knowledge, of 'Christ, and;the obedience of faith, that on the oneihand, he had the comfort to see himself the object of Jus people's most affectionate regard ; and, on the other, that his pious and pacific labours were not in vain in the Lord. He was .afterwards qalled to Gobs,, in Zealand. Wfaileihe Continued here, he enjoyed such opportunities of study and retirement, and was, in all respects, so com fortably .situate, that; he would often declare, afterwards, he never spent his time with greater pleasure and improye» ment From this place he was removed to Leuwarden, the Capital of iFriesland, in April 1668. During his stay at Leuwarden, it can scarce be conceived with what vigilance, faithfulness, and prudence, he laid himself out for the edification, comfort, and discreet guidance of that church : which was a matter of the greater difficulty, as the public affairs were in a very critical and precarious situation; the United, Province* being at that, time engaged in a dan gerous war,. and the enemy making frequent inroads into their territories. In the year 1675, that learned divine, John Melchoir Steinberg, professor of theology in the university of Fra- neker, departed; to a better world ; and, that they might the better repair so.great a loss,, the university made choice of Witsius to fill up the vacant, professorship ; especially, VOL. IV. M as 162 W I T S I U S. as they had abundant experience of his integrity and great abilities, during his seven years residence in their province of Friesland. And, which seemed to add still greater weight to their invitation, and made it appear yet more providential, the church at Franeker being, about the same time, deprived of one of their pastors, embraced the pre sent occasion of calling him to be over them. Witsius, oh the xoffer of these two important charges, repaired t6 Franeker ; and, after the university had conferred on him the degree of doctor in divinity, he was solemnly invested With the professorship on the 15th of April 1675, having first, as is customary', delivered a most excellent oration D'e vero Theologo, to the great satisfaction of a Vast audi tory, who flocked to Franeker, on this occasion, from all parts of the province. During his presidency, the uni versity was remarkably thronged with students ; many who were designed for the ministry, repairing thither, on his account, from various parts of Europe; who, having finished their studies under his tutorage and direction, re turned back to their own several countries, equally built up in piety, and advanced in learning. And, that he might be defective in no part of his duty, but every way answer the large expectations of those who promoted bim, he had scarce entered on his professorship, before he began (sun rounded as he was With business of great importance, both public and private, all which he faithfully and ably disi charged) to set about writing ; and published, in a very short space, (besides some select academical disputations, and a smaller discourse) two learned and pretty large treatises in Latin ; *to wit, his immortal book on the Economy of the Covenants, and his Exercitations on the Apostles' Creed. These had a prodigious sale, being soon vended throughout Holland and all Europe ; and, going through several editions, were read with great ap plause and admiration of their author. About this time, he became acquainted with the famous John Marct ; (after^ Wards his colleague) who, being originally a native of Friesland, though educated at Leyden, after he had finish ed his studies there, now returned to his own country: And Witsius haviing, by authority from the ecclesiastical synod, examined him as to his abilities for* the ministry, solemnly set. him apart as pastor of the church at Midlu- man, situate between Franeker and Harlingen. Soon af ter, Marck commenced D. D. and was, by Witsius's in fluence with the prince and senate, made ordinary pro fessor bf divinity in Franeker, A. D. 1676. Friesland, WITSIUS. 163 Fries! and, thus happily possessed of so inestimable a trea sure as Witsius, began to be the envy of the neighbouring states and universities, who were each desirous of enjoying so eminentaman themselves, TheUniversity of Groningen was the first that invited hini to leave his settlement at Franeker: for* having lost their great professpr, James 'Altingius, they scarce knew where to avail themselves of a successor equally capable of discharging the several weighty duties of theological and philological professor, and likewise that of being pastor of the university-church. Wherefore, in the latter end of the year 1679, they deputed a reverend and learned member of their society, to wait on Witsius at Franeker, who offered him very advantageous terms, if he would remove to Groningen. Witsins, immediately, com* municatedthe proposal to the prince, and to the heads of the University of Franeker, and desired their advice. They, with one voice, testifying the great esteem in which they held him, and uniting in a most earnest request, that he Would hot think of leaving them ; he, very, modestly and respectfully, excused himself to the University of Gronin gen. In the beginning of the year 1680, the University of Utrecht (their professor, Burman, being dead) looked out for some eminent person to makeup his loss; and, without much hesitation, fixed their eyes on Witsius for this pur- pose. In order to prevail with him to accept the overture, they dispatched an honourable deputation to Franeker, by whom they importuned himto come over to Utrecht, and adorn that church and university with his residence. Although Witsius was cordially attached to Friesland^ as being the place of his nativity, and where he had spent the major part of his life; yet,' from the love he bore, to Utrecht, the place of his education, the messengers had not much difficulty in gaining his consent. Therefore^ being, with great reluctance qn their part, dismissed by the Uni versity of Franeker, he repaired to Utrecht ; where he and the famous Triglandius were jointly invested with the mi nistry of that church, on the 25th of April 1680, j|and four days after, he commenced divinity professor ; having, first delivered a most elegant oration (afterwards printed,) De Preestantid Veritatis Evangelicct. In this elevated sta tion, he continued more than twenty-two years : During which time, it is incredible with what application and suc cess he guided the affairs both of the church and univer sity; each of which flourished exceedingly, under his faithful and laborious administration. He was singularly happy 164 W 1 T S I U S. happy in his colleagues : having, for his assessors in the university, those illustrious divines* Peter Mastricht, Melchiqr Leidecker, and Herman Halenius. iFor his as- isistants in the church, he had many, equally eminent for piety, learning, zeal, and moderation : Among whom were Peter Eindhovius, and John Ladstrager, formerly his colleagues in the church at Leuwarden. He had, like wise, in the university, beside those already mentioned, that great linguist* John Leusden, formerly his tutor ; together with Gerard Uriesitrs, and John Luitsius, both Very eminent in philosophy, and to whose care, for in struction in matters purely literary, those youth were Committed Who were designed for the mtinistry. His congregation at church consisted chiefly of the ma gistrates and inhabitants of the city ; who were all no less edified, than astonished, at the energy which accompanied his preaching, and the masterly freedom and propriety of his elocution. As a public and private tutor, he had a most numerous circle of excellent youths, who flocked, on his account, to Utrecht, from every part of the protes tant world ; and who hung, with no less rapture than improvement, on his learned, pious, and eloquent Mps. Even his private lectures were attended, daily, not only by these his pupils, but likewise by great numbers of doc tors In divinity, and professors of the several sciences. This great man, therefore, seeing his labours crowned with such abundant success, spared no pains nor fatigues, Whereby he might advance the interests, and diffuse the knowledge, of religion and learning. In consequence of this, he would spend many nights totally without sleep : nor was he content with serving the church and the uni versity, ^by preaching, lecturing, conversing, 'and dis puting in the public halls, but committed his treasures ofknowle'dge to writing, and published many books truly invaluable, which will transmit his name with renown to succeeding generations : nor can they ever sink into oMvidn, so long as true religion, unaffected elegance, and profound literature, have a friend left in the world. The people of Utrecht, from the highest to the lowest, were thoroughly sensible of the worth of such a man : whence we find them, heaping all the honours upon 'him, which, as a minis'ter, he was capable of receiving. He had always the precedence given him in their synods, and was twice honoured with the supreme government and headship of the university : namely, in the years 1686 and 1697. Nor must we omit, that when, in the year 1685, WITSIUS. 165 1 685, the States of Hqlland sent a splendid embassy to James the Second, King of Great Britain, whq at that time was pursuing measures which ended in his ruin, and Wassenaer, Lord of Duvenwarden, and Weedius, Lord of Dykeveldt, and Cittersius, were the persons nominated tq execute this commission ; the second of these noble per. sonages easily convinced the. other two, that none was so proper to attend them to England, in quality of chap lain, as Witsius ; who might not only by his uncommon knowledge in religious and civil matters be of great ser-r vice to them in both respects, but also be no small credit to the reformed churches of Holland, by letting the English nation see what great divines flourished there. The design being intimated to Witsius, he cheerfully closed with it, though he was at that time very ill, and weak in body. After some months stay in England, he confessed, on his return, that he had conversed with Dr. Sancroft, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Compton, the Bishop of London, and many other divines, both conformists and dissenters ; " by which conversations, he would say, I was much furthered in learning, experience, and mqde» ration." * From that period forward, the principal pre lates and clergymen in Englaud did not conceal the respect and esteem in which they held this great man, especially as he came to be more and more known to them. By this time, there were few places in the Christian world, which the fame of Witsius had not reached. And now it was, that-the commissioners of the University of Leyden, and the magistrates of that city, resolved on in viting him thither ; and the rather, as the very eminent F. Spanhemius, junior, was judged to he ill, past reco very : and it pleased King William, then goyernor of Hol land, to ratify their choice with his royal approbation. The professorship of Leyden being tendered to Witsius in form, he accepted it. Though the people of Utrecht were un willing to part with so great an ornament, he had solid and sufficient reasons for removing ; as he judged be might be more useful, if, for the few remaining years of his life (which, according to the course of nature, could not be many) he should desist from preaching, and devote himself entirely to university business. He was the more confirmed in this resolution, when he received information, from * Marckius's words are, ' Fassus est, — haud pauca pfiseryisse, qu/e ad doctrines sues facereni qugmentum, et auibus ad omnem prudehtiatn redderetm inftructiar.' 166 WITSIUS. from Heinsius, the illustrious administrator of Holland, that King William heartily concurred in his removal'. Some time afterwards, that truly great monarch, having admitted Witsius to a personal conference, was pleased, with his own mouth, toi ratify the same, in terms very af fectionate and obliging ; assuring him, ' how highly agree- "able it was to him, that he obeyed the call to the professor's chair at Leyden, of which call he [t. e. the king] himself was the first mover ; and that, for the future, he might depend on his omitting no opportunity of testifying the favour he bore him, and the reverence in which he held him.' And the king was, ever after, as good as his word. On his entrance upon the professorship at Leyden, (i. e. on the 16th of October 1698), he delivered his fine oration Dt Theologo modesto. And with What integrity he discharged his high office for the remaining ten years of his life ; how incessant his labours were ; with what wisdom and skill ' he taught ; with what resistless eloquence he spoke; with whatalacrity he went through the academical disputations; how holily he lived ; with what nervous beauty he wrote ; with what sweetness of address, with what humility, can dour, and benignity of demeanour, he behaved in common life ; and what an ornament he was to the university, were almost impossible, and altogether needless, to say. He had scarce been a year at Leyden, when the States of Holland and West Friesland, at the recommendation of the governors of the university, made him regent of their theological college, in the room of their lately deceased regent, Marcus Essius ; which he could superintend, with out omitting any part of his duty as professor, having, for his associate in the professorship, the famous Anthony Hulr sius. Witsius entered, with great reluctance, on this new stage of action ; and it is well known, that he would have absolutely declined it, had he not considered himself bound in duty and gratitude, both to accede to the pleasure of the States, and to spend and be spent in the service of the church. However, he went through this weighty office with fide lity and indefatigable zeal : and his care for the youth under him was rendered easier, from the affection he bore them, and from the apparent success with which his in structions were attended. At the same time, he was equally attentive to his duty as professor. Thus usefully he went on, till, upon the 8th of February 1707, partly on account of his advanced age, and partly through in firmities of/ other kinds (his strength being almost ex hausted WITSIUS. 167 hausted by heavy and frequent sicknesses for some years past,) he with great modesty resigned his important charge, as regent, in a full assembly of the university heads and governors, who with one voice, and without intermis sion, intreated his continuance in that office, but in vain: For Witsius, well nigh worn out with a series of years and labours, was as deaf to their intreaties as to the consideration of the great revenues he must forego, by quitting that exalted post. At the same time, he was, at his own particular request, favoured with- a discharge from the public exercise of his office as, university profes sor; for the execution of which, with his usual accuracy and diligence, his great feebleness of body rendered birr* less able. And he declared on the occasion, to an inti mate friend, that " he had much rather desist altogether frqm the exercise of his function, than not go through with it in a becoming manner." It would have been impossible for Witsius to have un dergone so many and incredible fatigues for the publip benefit, had he met with domestic troubles and family disquiets. To prevent these, A. D. 1660, he married Aletta van Borchorn, the daughter of Wessalius van Bor- chorn, a wealthy citizen and merchant of Utrecht. She was a woman happy in the singular sweetness of her tem per; and, indeed, excelled in every Christian grace and social virtue. It was hard to say, whether she more loved or revered her husband : Between whom subsisted an un*- interrupted harmony till her death, which happened in the year 1684, after living together twenty-four years. She was always the companion of his travels, having lived with him in North Holland, Zealand, Friesland, , and Utrecht. Her last illness was very long and painful, which, however, she bore with fortitude and resignation truly Christian ; and at last departed in great peace and comfort of soul. He was no less happy in his children : For, not to mention two sons who died young, he had three most pious and accomplished daughters. Witsius was an accurate philosopher ; master of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin ; a very considerable Orientalist ; well versed in the history of all nations, ancient and modern, sacred and profane ; and, for his consummate knowledge of theo logy, in all its branches, it would be superfluous to speak. How happy he was at asserting and vindicating the truths of the gospel, almost every one knowsi With the Holy Scriptures he intimately conversed, night and flay : and, so exact was his familiarity with these, that he 168 W I T s i u a he had (siiys Marckips) the original Wofds, upon all oc casions, very readily at command, and as readily could explain them. With respect to his temper, it Was as sweet* humble, and benevolent, as can be imagined. HehCe arose^ both his aversion to' all Unreasonable novelr ties in doctrine, arid, at the same time, his great modera tion toward such persons as differed from him. He nei ther chose to be dictated to, nor to dictate : He followed no party, and formed none. His favourite maxim was, In necessariis, unitas; in non-necessariis', liberies; in omni bus, (prtidentia el) chdrifas* He foreboded the sad de clension in doctrine arid experience, which was coming on the protestant churches of Holland; and blessed God, that he was too old to live long enough to see it. And', though he could not help (such was his zeal for truth) taking notice Of such of his reverend brethren as Were de sirous of striking out, according to the maxims of their own depraved reason, uiiscriptufal. novelties, and forced constructions of Scripture ; yet, so far had he drank into the mind of Christ, that he did this with all tenderness, deference, and caution : And if any were angry at the freedom of his remarks, he received their resentment in a spirit of meekness, and either took no notice of those Who reproached him, or repaid their Slanders, by giving them those commendations which were due to them on account of their commendable qualities in other respects. Nor can it be wondered at, that a man so learned, holy, hum ble, and diligent, should, Wherever he was, be attended with a vast concourse of pupils from every part of the reformed world : from Holland, Germany, Frariee, Po land, Prussia, Switzerland, Great Britain, and evph from America, (among which last were some native Indians too) and that his acquaintance should be sought for by the most eminent scholars and divines throughout Europe. We now draw near to the last scene of this great man's life: For as, from his childhqod,- his thin, Weak body had often struggled With many severe disorders, from Whence most people were apprehensive he would die young ; so now^ being far in years, he advanced apace to the house appointed for all living. HoWever, he constantly re tained, under all his sickness, his senses and intellects in full vigour ; irisqinuch that, till within a little before his death, he could, with all readiness, read the Greek Testa ment, * Agreeable to which was the uiatto upon all his seals, CANDIDE. WITSIUS. 169 ment, of the smallest type, by moon-light. But, as he advanced farther in life,' he suffered the most dreadful tortures from the gout and stone : And, so far back as six years before he died, he was seized, for the first time, with a temporary dizziness, accompanied with a suspen sion of memory, and absence of thought: And this, too, as he was sitting in the professor's chair, and delivering an academical lecture. By the help of an able physician, these evils were a little mitigated : But, returning by de grees, they threatened future and more violent attacks. His last illness was ushered in by a reeling, and an uni versal languor. On the 18th of October 1708, he was seized with a fever, about one o'clock in the morning : which suddenly subsiding, a total feebleness and relaxation diffused itself over his body, and a torpor over his mind. The holy mari, considering these symptoms, told, with freat serenity and composure, some friends who attended im, that " he knew they would issue in death." His senses were gradually weakened by repeated slumbers ; however, about bis last hour he signified to Dr. Marckius his blessed hope and his heavenly desires, which he had frequently done before ; and then about noon, on . the 22d of October 1708, he sweetly departed this life, in his seventy-third year, and entered into the joy of his Lord. His" Works. In the year 1660, be published, " I. his Judaus Christianizans circa principia fldei et S. S. Tri- nitatem.* II. A- D. 1665, at Wormeren, he published, in Dutch, The Practice of Christianity, with Spiritual Representations, first, of what was laudable in the Unre- generate, and, thett, of what was blameworthy in the Regenerate. III. At Leovardeh, he set forth an Expla nation of the Parable of God's Controversy with his Vineyard. At Franeker, he published, besides several lesser Treatises, IV. His Oeconomia Fcederum ; afterwards translated into Dutch, by the Rev. Mr. Harlingius. V. His Exercitationesin Symbolum, which were also translated into Dutch, by Mr. Costerus, at Delft. VI. At Utrecht, Exeraitationes in Orationefi Dominicam. VII. His jEgyp- tiaca$ with two lesser pieces annexed. VIII. His fifst volume of Miscellanea Sacra. IX. At Leyden, he pub lished his second volume of Miscellanea Sacra, complete ; and likewise* X. his Meletemata Leydensia^ * This pjece is so scarce, that, though many inquiries have been made for it both in England and Holland, it cannot be procured. 170 T A L L E N T S. FRANCIS TALLENTS, M.A. FrANCIS TALLENTS was born at Pelsley, near Chesterfield, in Derbyshire, in, November 1619, and brought up at the public schools at Mansfield and Newark. About 1642 he travelled abroad as tutor to the sons of the Earl of Suffolk. He has often said, that what he saw abroad pf the Popish religion, arid what conference he had with its advocates, added muqh to his conviction of the falsehood and wickedness of it, and confirmed him in protestantism. Upon his return he was chosen fellow of Magdalen College, and was afterwards senior fellow, and president or vice- master of the college. He was a noted tutor there ; and, among others, Sir Robert Sawyer and Dr. Burton were his pupils. He, was ordained at London, November 29, 1648, by the third classical presbytery in that province. In 1652 he left the university, and went to Shrewsbury, where he became minister of St. Mary's ; and his labours were well accepted and useful. At the restoration he was not a little pleased, and madesome advances towards a compli ance in ecclesiastical matters. But when he saw how things were fixed in 1662, he was necessitated to quit his place, which was his livelihood. In 1670 he travelled into France as tutor to two young gentlemen, Mr. Bascawen and Mr. Hampden, (the former of whom died at Strasburg of the smallrpox). Having spent about two years and an half abroad, in 1673 he came back to Shrewsbury, and joined with Mr. Bryan in preaching to a congregation of dissen ters in that town. Upon the liberty given the dissenters in 1687, he returned to Shrewsbury, and continued his ministerial service there, in conjunction, with Mr. Bryan. In King William's time, overtures being made towards a comprehension, some gentlemen that greatly valued his judgment, sent for him to London to discourse with him about it ; particularly concerning there-ordaining of such as were ordained by presbyters. Upon mature deliberation he declared he could not submit to it ; and drew up his reasons at large. He was much for occasional conformity, as a token of charity towards those whom we cannot sta- fedlyjoin with. In 1691 he entered into his new place of worship, and preached his first sermon there on Is. lvii. 15. He caused it to be written on the walls of the meet ing- TALLENTS. 171 ing-place, " That it was built not for a faction or party, but for promoting repentance and faith, in communion with all that love our Lord Jesus Christ, in sincerity." He added that scripture with which the French churches usually begin their public worship : Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. In all his address and converse he was, in the highest degree, respectful and complaisant. His politeness was a great ornament to his learning and piety. — In his old age he retained the learning both of the school and the academy to admiration. He had something to communicate to those .who conversed with him concerning all sorts of learning ; but his master-piece, in which no man was more ready, was history. He abounded much in pious ejaculations in his common discourse. He was very happy in counselling his friends who applied to him for advice, and knew how to speak a word in season. He sometimes expressed his fear concerning many weak and melancholy Christians, that they had tired themselves in the exercises ofdevotion; and would advise ,such to keep their minds as calm and sedate as possible, and not aim to put them always upon the stretch. He would sometimes pleasantly say, " The quietisjts are the best Christians;" and, with regard to the external performances of religion, would give this advice : " Let the work of God be done, and done well; but with as little noise as may be." He was eminent for his charity, in judging of other persons and in relieving the necessitous, particularly strangers in distress. He was in a remarkable degree dead to the world, knowing no good In it, but doing good with it ; and, by the little he left be hind him, shewed that he had no way of laying up what he had, but by laying it out in good works, (1 Tim. vi. 19.) His preaching was very plain, familiar, and affectionate. He studied not words, but things. He was frequent and earnest in pressing brotherly love. Love was the air he breathed in. He was much for extolling free grace, &c. but though he differed from Mr. Baxter in many of his notions and expressions concerning justification and other things, yet he highly valued that great man for his learn ing and piety, and the service he had done the church by his practical writings ; and often spoke of him with great re spect and affection. Some days before he died he blessed God that he was fuller of inward comfort and joy than he was able to express. After he had some time lain wait ing, he began to think it long that he had not his release, and to cry, " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." But ¦ ' ' knowing 172 TROSS E. knowing God's time is the best, be waited with patience for it. On the Lord's Day, April 11, he would have those about him (except one person) go to public worship. That day he seemed somewhat revived. Many excellent words dropped from him, and he continued very sensible, calling upon God, till about nine or ten o'clock at night, when he sweetly slept in Jesus. His Works. I. A View of Universal History ; or Chro nological Tables, [finely engraven on sixteen copperplates, in his own house,] (one of the greatest works of the age.) II. Sure and large foundations ; designed to promote Ca tholic Christianity. III. A short History of Schism, for- the promoting of Christian Moderation." And some smaller works. GEORGE TROSSE. GEORGE TROSSE* was born in Exbn, the *>5th of October 1631. His grandfather, Thomas Trosse, Esq. had nine sons and one daughter; his father, Henry Trosse, Esq. the eldest son, was bred a counsellor at law; his mother was Rebekah, the daughter of Mr. Walter Burrow, a merchant, who was twice mayor of Exeter, and a considerable benefactor to the city. He was put to nurse in the country to a woman that kept him till he was almost starved. His life was even despaired of ; so that his father being about to take a journey, in which he should not be absent long, before his departure appointed the place where he should be buried. At seventeen weeks old, he was committed to another woman, by whose care (through the blessing of God) he soon recovered. He was much affected with his preservation, and makes many pious re flections upon It.-}- He was brought up according to his degree, * His great grandfather had eighteen children by one wife ; his grand father ten ; his father sixteen ; and his uncle, Mr. Roger Trosse, ten. f In a large manuscript, discovered since the former narrative of his life was printed, " God (saith he) who feeds the young ravens when deserted by their dams, and takes care of the "ostrich's eggs, when left in the earth by the forgetful bird, looked upon me in mercy : And though I was absent from the eyes and ears of friends, he whose eyes run to and fro through the whole earth, and who is ready to help those who are destitute of aid, put it into the heart of a servant of my father to come and TROSSE. 1 73 degree, in the city of Exeter. At the grammar school, having a quick apprehension, and delighting in his book, he outstript most of his school-fellows. He was also mo dest, civil, obedient to his parents, and free from those youthful extravagancies to which others of his age were -addicted : So that his master was much troubled when he was taken from him, and said, He thought his mother did her son and him an injury in removing him from school; for he was" the most forward bqy that ever he taught. Being now about fifteen years of age, and having a mind to be a merchant, and to travel into foreign parts, his mother sent him into France to learn the language before he was an apprentice. From hence he dates the begin ning and occasion of his future sins and calamities : For going abroad into a world full of snares, with a blind mind, a foolish fancy, and a gras»les.s heart, he was drawn into great evils, of which he drew up a relation (as he says) to warn others from running into the like tempta tions, and to caution parents against indulging their chil dren's unreasonable desires. He tarried a while at Morlaix, in lower Brittany, and from thence was sent to Pontive, to Mr. Ramet, a French minister, who taught the tongue to several English youths that boarded with ihim. Mr. Trosse having a good me mory, and some knowledge in the Latin, within a year spoke French so readily, that they said there was but one Englishman there before who excelled him. Here an ague seized and held 'him about nine weeks, by which he was brought very low : But he was secure and stupid, having no serious thoughts of God or another world. While he continued in this place, Mr. Ramet was killed by a piece of timber, and the rubbish which fell upon him. The papists took advantage from his dedth to insult his fa mily, and cry after them when they went abroad, * The great dog, or the great heretic, is sent to hell.' Hence also their preachers took occasion to defame the protes tant religion, and prejudice their people against it. When his vear was out he returned to Morlaix. Therehe staid about nine months, and having no employment, nor any to reprove him for what he did amiss* he addicted himself to and see me.— I may say with DaVid, Though mi father and my mother forsook me, nay, though my nurse starved me, yet the Lord took me up. God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways — This is, O Lord, unconceivable mercy, unutterable lovc.'that when I was ready to perish for want, thou shouldest so wonderfully preserve^roe." 174 TROSSE. to a vain and ungodly course of life. He met with many jfinticements to sin, and much fuel for his lusts, and spent a great deal of time and money in tennis-courts and ta verns, in learning music and dancing. He also frequently drank to excess, for which, when he came to himself, he would be ashamed, and take up resolutions against it: But f he soon broke them, that he might gratify his sensual in clinations. Once he vowed never more to drink in a ta^ vern : But, after a little while, to satisfy his conscience and secure himself (as he thought) from the breach of his vow, he put his head out at the window, or went out into a gutter to take off his glass ; till at length he forgot his vow, stifled his convictions, and could drink as frequently in taverns, and to as great excess, as ever. When he had been about two years in France, and had spent very extra vagantly there, he was serat for home : And being much concerned at what account he should give his mother of his extravagant expences, thai he might prevent her dis pleasure, he pretended he had been visited with a very ex pensive fit of sickness, and that he had been often let blood for it. This was a gross lie, for he never had any blood taken from him there : Yet he often affirmed it, and per sisted in it several years, without the least temptation to it, or hope of profit by it. All he brought home for so much time and money spent, was, (as he says) " The French tongue, garb, and manners, a little music and dancing, and an initiation into company-keeping." His mother was offended at his gallantry, and ript off the broad gold lace from the sleeves of his doublet. After he had lived at home almost a year, without ap plying himself to any thing that was good, save only that he read sometimes out of Mr. Smith or Dr. Harris's ser mons to his grandmother, who was confined to her bed : Being now about seventeen years old, he was desirous to be bound apprentice to a merchant beyond the seas. This his mother readily agreed to,' because she thought it would be the mos;t likely way to get an estate, though there was cause to fear it might prove the ruin of his soul, seeing he had been such a prodigal before, and still continued foolish and fantastical. Upon this occasion he Writes thus: " I wish parents, as they love the souls of their children, and value their own comfort, would not suffer them to go be yond the sea till they have ground to believe that a good Work is wrought in them, and God engaged for their preservation: Or else, that they would commit them to some religious persqns- there, who would conscientiously discharge TROSSE 175 discharge their duty to them." And, in another manu script, " If I had ever so many sons, and could have them placed abroad for [nothing, I would sooner sell my shirt from my back to place them here with an ordinary trades man, under whom I could expect no great profit or pre ferment for them, than send them to the richest merchant in Spain or Portugal." A brother-in-law of his having a near relation in London, who was a Portuguese merchant^ he was sent up thither, with a considerable sum of money, by him to be bound an apprentice to a merchant in Por tugal. All the time he was in London, which was three or four months;, he lived in idleness, haunted taverns, gamed, drank to excess, and still retained and increased his antipathy to the power of godliness, and the professors of it. He went to a church where the common-prayer was constantly read, being zealous (to use his own words) " for he knew not what, and contemning what he ought highly to have loved and honoured ; despising pure wor ship, and doating on human inventions^" While he continued here he was bound to a London merchant, that at his return from Portugal he might claim his freedom!, and enjoy the privileges of the city. At length he went on board a ship at Gravesend, bound for Oporto, where he safely arrived in three weeks time, and lived upon trial with one of the chief English merchants in that city.1 -He calls his abode there another sad and sinful period of his life. There he found no other reli^ gion but popery : For though the English were not pa^ pists, though they did not go to mass, confess to priests) fall downbefore idols, pray to saints, fetch the blood from their backs or go in processions and pilgrimages, yetj which was worse, they had no religion at all among them that ever he could see, but were practical atheists. It is truei the protestant religion was not then tolerated, much less were ministers; or any social worship of God permittedj And, as soon as any ship arrived there from a protestant country, the inquisitors demanded all religious books from their owners, sealed them up in a bag, and kept them in their convent till they were ready to depart. Though^ after this, Cromwell got liberty for our merchants to pro fess their own religion, and to have pastors to preach and administer other ordinances among them, even in the eye, and under the nose of the inquisition. How- *ever, they Who adventured their estates and lives to -steal custom, and send home bullion, might much more easily have concealed their Bibles and good bqoks : But they did 176 TROSSE. did not care to run any risk for their souls. He says, he did not remember that he ever saw a Bible, qr religious book, or one act of solemn worship performed in their house, or heard Gqd named there, but in vain. The Lord's Day was spent in casting up their hooks, or in recreations upon the river or abroad in the country. English merchants 'lived in uncleanness and drunkenness, manifesting less sorrow for their sins, and apprehension of the wrath of God deserved by them, than the popish inhabitants ; and so caused the name of God to be blas phemed, and hardened the superstitious natives in the prejudices against the protestant religion, as if it was a doctrine of licentiousness, and gave liberty to all sorts of villanies. " I might here (saith he) enlarge upon (this very sad subject of the wickedness of our merchants in foreign parts, (as to the greatest number qf them) hut my design isnatto treat of others' lives and miscarriages, but of, my own." There he still continued profane and irreligiq.Uj9 ; never but once or twice bowing his knees to God, though he did it to images ; symbolizing with papistsin.their gesture, to avoid their anger. He spent the greatest part of his time idly, scarce ever looking into a history pr any other book. He either played at tables, or waited on hismaster while he was playing. jHe and his fellow-servant found ways to steal wine, (though tthey had no need of it, having a handsome allowance) with which they made an old woman, who was the house-keeper, drunk. On the Lord's days he went to taverns, played at shuffie-boardor billiards, and went upon the river for,his diversion. He had also many temptations to commit fornication, but the goqd providence of GqD preserved him .from it. Thus he lived in that city a child of Belial, about two years and an half, and might have continued there many more, had not tGoD prevented it in this manner : His kinsman at London, with whom an hundred pounds was left, (to be paid to his master in Portugal when, he should be bound) refused to pay it there in English money, but gave order to his factor at Oporto to pay it in Portuguese money. This his master disliked, and told him he would not take him on those terms. He was surprised, as he had reason, and nettled at these iwords: And being afraid the time he had already served would > not be allowed as part of his apprenticeship, he acquainted bis master that he was re solved to return for England ; Who, in displeasure, told him, ' If you will desert my service, you shall pay for your TROSSE. 177 your diet all the time you have been with me.' This he thought hard and unreasonable : But he was in the lion's mouth; therefore he chose rather to take up money of the factor before-mentioned, than to continue at such uncer tainties. So he paid his master the sum which he de manded, and left Oporto. From thence he travelled by land, in company with Mr. Robinson, a papist, the proconsul of that city, to Lisbon, where he tarried about three months, while the ship in which he returned was taking in her lading. In the mean time he went to see the convent of the English Jesuits, where he found many young gentlemen of our na tion recreating themselves, and saw allmanner of attracJ tions to sense and faney. His fellow-traveller, out of a desire to enrich the fathers, advised him to go home, get his portion, and then return and join himself to their so ciety, that he might live as handsomely and happily as they. But the ship being now ready to sail, after two years and three quarters' stay in Portugal, he went ort board, and in six days arrived on the English shore. The vessel was bound for London, but by stress of weather was forced into Plymouth. Upon his return from Portu gal, he makes the following reflections: " Every day, for many years, upon my knees I have been thanking a wise and gracious God for bringing me thence, and not suffer ing me to stay there any longer. I might have lived there many years more, got a good estate, and come home rich and flourishing; but then I should have dishonoured God all that time,, and have brought home infinitely more curses upon my person than crosses in my purse T should have returned with a heart full of pride1 and lust, and fuel to feed them all my days. But, blessed be God that I tarried there not a day longer. I would not live there now one day, as I lived then months and years, for all the riches in Portugal." He met with very stormy weather in his passage, but was unaffected, both with the danger and the mercy of God in preserving him* and bringing him home in safety from a popish country ; nor did he make any suitable returns. The day he landed, which was Saturday, he was very drunk. The Lord's Day he went to church, and heard a sennon, but neither by a thought in his mind, nor a bill in the congregation, did he give thanks for his safe arrival; yea, even on that day he drank to excess. The Monday morning he was so over* come with liquor, that when he was come a little way VOL. IV. N out 178 TROSSE. out of the town, he fell from his horse, and lay (as he was told) dead drunk in the highway, from whence he was earried away to an ale-house, and put to bed. The next day he got safe to Exeter. While he continued there, which was five or six years, he lived as bad, or worse than ever. As reason, bodily strength, money, credit, vain companions, &c. increased, so did his crimes. One day he rode with his mother to Feniton, about twelve miles from Exeter. The next morning, contrary to her mind, he returned to the city, and, that he might ingratiate himself with the cavaliers, became surety for one who had been a major in the king's army, in a bond of some hundred pounds, After this he drank to excess, yet made a shift to get on horseback in the evening. By the way he fell off his horse, but got up again, he knew not how, and at length came safe home. He reeled into the kitchen, asked his mother's blessing, fell flat on his face before her, and was carried to bed. A servant asked him, whether he was not afraid to lie alone? He answered: " I do not fear all the devils in hell, but can go and lie any where at any time." He slept soundly all night, but, the next morning, the folly and danger of his being hound for the major came into bis mind ; his brain was disordered, and he was hurried with disquieting thoughts, which ended in distraction and out rageous madness. He hath given a particular account of his horrid blasphemies, dreadful despair, temptations, and attempts to destroy himself; of the visions, whimsies, confused heap of ridiculous fancies, and nonsensical delu sions, (as he calls them) with whieh his head was filled during his distraction ; of his being cured at Glastonbury, his relapses into his old sins, and the return of his trouble and misery, and of his perfect recovery at last. He concludes this account with these words : " Thus 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 five-and-twenty years old. Though God might then have 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, to have increased my eternal torments every minute of the remaining part of my continuance on earth: Yet such was his infinite good ness, such his incomparable and unmatchable 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 af ter TROSSE. 179 ter God, and my perseverance in that search till I had found him, from this very time: For though I cannot 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 life, both in judgment, heart, and conversation ; and about this time I began, or at least endeavoured so to be. 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 instrrt* mental in my conversion than another, I have still thought Mrs. Gollop * was the person." After he had lived at home some time, he rode to Oxford with a nephew of his brother-in-law. There he met with one of his acquaintance, who so commended an academical life, that he had some inclination to it. This, at his return, he proposed to his mother, who gave her consent, and promised him an handsome allowance. He went thither the latter end of May 1657, in the six-and- twentieth year of his age ; entered gentleman commoner in Pembroke College, and remained there seven years. 1* There * " I rejoice to1 hear that Mrs. Gollop is with you. — I am persuaded, nnder God',, she has been the prime instrument both of the health of my body, and the salvation of my soul." Letter to his Mother, Oxon. October 4, 1658. ¦f " While I continued in the university, (saith he) I kept my chamber and study as closely, though I do not say as successfully and profitably, as any in my time. And I may well call my going thither a blessed' arid successful enterprize, and' my stay there the most happy and beneficial peiod of my life hitherto." He had for his tutor Mr. Thomas Cheeseman,- a blind man, who came to his chamber. He marie ft his business to recover his grammar learning, and in some time un derstood the classics tolerably well. He stndicd the Greek tongue, and made sucH a progress in it, as to read ThucydideS, Herodotus, and other historians. After he had gone through philosophy and divinity, he had one to teach him Hebrew, in which he got so ihuch skill, as that he read over the Hebrew Bible several times. " This I speak (saith he) not to boast of my learning (fdr I know I have very little) but to magnify God's wonderful goodnefss towards me, that he should sq compose my brains, after such fearful distraction, as to capacitate me for hard study, and that he did so wonderfully preserve my health, in such a sedentary and inactive life ; (for I took as little recreation as any man) whereas all my former days were spent in vain rovings-, in foolish sports and diversions." In the mean while, he was not Careless of his precious soul, but took proper and competent time for secref duties. He constantly attended upon chapel devotions, he read good hooks', and Examined himself by them. He attended Dr. Conant'S lecture Friday mornings, Dr. Harris's catechetical lecture Tuesdays, and the Thursday's lecture preached by the cations of Christ Church, in their own chapel. ISO TROSSE. There he kept close to God in duty, and to his book in study, and increased in knowledge ; finding by experience, that the best studying is upon the knees. At length he began to preach, but very privately, because of the act against conventicles. Nevertheless, on the Lord's Day, he still went with his mother to his parish church, (where they had a very good preacher) and heard the liturgy ; for upon reading Mr. Ball against Can, he thought he might lawfully join with those of the church of England in their worship, as long as he was not active in anything he -scrupled. And he professes, " I think I may sayf if " ever He sat under Mr. Hickman's ministry, who preached at St. Olave's, bard by the college, om the Loid's Days, and beard many excellent sermons at St. .Mary's. Herecei'^d the sacrament from Mr. Hickman, and Dr. Lau^ley, the master uf the college, who administered it to a select numhei of his coll.giates. They had a repetition of sermons and solemn prayer in the college hall, every Lord's Day before supper; and after it he repealed, rud praved with' three or four young men in his chamber. He also convened, unil sometimes prayed with several reli gious students and townsmen, tu his great advantage. But while be ¦was thus endeavouring to embellish his mind with learning, and his heart with grace, he met with temptations; as to obseive his dreams, &.C. and he had a dangerous suggestion, that by being uniform and constant in his hums and days of devotion, he dishonoured Christ,, placing duties in his stead, and therefore he should be more r< miss in these, and glorify Christ, by relying onlv upon his merits. Against this temptation1 he was fortiued. by considering that he had dishonoured Christ, and therefore ought to persevere in the performance of duty, that he might get gieater degrees of grace to honour him more. Upon King Charles II. 's resto ration, he impartially studied the controversy with the church of Bmdand ; reading Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, SprJnt and Burgess for conformity, and Gillespie, Paul liain, and Dr. Ames against it. After mature deliberation, he refused to subscribe to the discipline and cere monies, though he knew that this would expose him to the displeasure of his mother and near relations, and that there was no preferment with out conformity: Howexer, he kept his resolution to be a minister. By thus studying the points in debate, and seeing what plausible arguments conformists had for their practice, he came to entertain favourable thoughts of them, thinking many of them might with a good conJ science subscribe, and do what he could riot have done without sin. And he was persuaded, that the fierce and uncharitable on both sides, in this unhappy controversy, were either little read in it, or else swayed by passion or interest, wjthout, if not against their judgment, to revile or persecute the contrary-minded. Now was Dr. Langley, the master of Pembroke College, ejected by the king's visitors;- the cha^Lin, who had an excellent gift in prayer, reviled and dismissed by the new master; repetition of sermons suppressed, and the constitution and manners of the university so altered, that he resolved to leave it. He quitted the college, and retired to a private house in the city, where he continued about two months. And foreseeing what temptations he was like to meet with from' bis friends, upon the account of his principles, he desired some of his religious acquaintance to keep a fast with him, and for him, at Elizabeth Hampton's, where having been recommended to the grace and conduct of God, he left Oxford. TROSSE. Ml ever I had the spirit of God moving upon my soul in prayT cr, it hath been when I have joined in common-prayer." But he never received the sacrament there, not being sa tisfied in the gesture : However, he did not condemn such as used it; nor would he keep any from that ordinance for kneeling at it. His labours met with good acceptance among serious people; but the oppositions of his relations, who were prejudiced against non-conformists, made him walk with a heavy heart ; yet he kept his ground, not receding from what he thought his duty. And his blame less and pious life procured him respect, or at least pre vented them from discovering their contempt of him, only in disputes passions would arise. Mr. Robert Atkins, a worthy and excellent non-copformist, for whom he had a high esteem, was very desirous to have him ordained. At first he was somewhat averse to it ; but when the Oxford act drove' dissenting ministers from cities, corporations, and their own benefices, he consented, and was solemnly set apart to the work of the ministry in Somersetshire, 1666. He accuses himself for entering upon the ministry too rashly, not duly considering the weight and imports . ance of that glorious and blessed function ; I he gifts and graces requisite as due qualifications for it ; and the temp tations which attend the faithful discharge of it. For above twenty years he preached once a week, and adminis tered the Lord's Supper every month, in the midst of the most violent persecutions. While KingCharles'sindulgencelasted, which was about a year and a quarter, he preached in a licensed house ; when that was recalled, he desisted from public preaching on the Lord's Day, and went to church as formerly, yet he continued to preach and administer the sacrament at other times, until the revolution. When King James gave liberty of conscience by. his declaration, (April 11, 1687) he would not preach on the Lord's Day, till the afternoon, when the public worship was ended ; because he suspected a design to weaken and undermine the church of England; and when that was done, the dissenters might easily be crushed. Besides, he thought it a great instance of ar bitrary government to dispense with the laws of the land,. and that it was done in favour of the papists : Therefore, if he had been prosecuted upon the act against conven ticles, he resolved rather to suffer than plead the king's declaration, which he thought contrary to the subject's liberty, established by law, arid to have a direct tendency to destroy our religion. This his moderation exposed turn 182 TROSSE. him to the censures and lashes of some on both sides : Btit he enjoyed peace of conscience, and satisfaction in what he did. In the beginning of King James's reign, the dissenter-s in Exeter were obliged to meet very privately, and in small numbers, being narrowly watched by the persecuting party, who hoped to ingratiate themselves with the court, by rooting out those whom they called fanatics. About twenty persons, with three aged ministers, of whom Mr. Trosse was the youngest, were met to pray together. A malicious neighbour informed the magistrates, (who were at the mayor's feast) that there was a conventicle. Three of them, attended with constables, and some of the rabble, searched after, and found out their little meeting. When they had given the ministers hard language, arid; treated them as if they had been the worst of malefactors, they offered them the Oxford oath, [ ' That it is not lawful, upon any pretence whatsoever, to take up arms against the king, or any commissioned by him. — And that I will not at any time endeavonr any alteration of govern ment, either in ehurch or state.'] He declared his reso lution not to take it ; because under some circumstances, he should swear against his duty. He gave his instances and reasons, to which he received no satisfactory answer. Then he desired leave to put in the word [' Unlawfully'] ; but they told him, He must take it verbatim, as it was in the act. This he could not do. He pleaded, that the act did not reach him, because he never had a benefice, nor was he legally convicted of keeping conventicles. However, he and Mr. Gaylard were committed to prison without law. Mr. Downe took the oath, and was not imprisoned. Mr. Trosse and Mr. Gaylard found three of the city ministers in the prison on the same account, viz. Mr. John Searle, formerly of Plympton, Mr. Joseph Hallett, and Mr. John Hopping. The justices, not con tent to make a conventicle of this meeting, indicted the two ministers, and Mr. Crispin, one of their company, for a riot, though there were but four old men, who had but two little walking-staves with them, besides women, and they made no resistance, that they might fine them at their pleasure. To prevent this, they brought a certiorari to remove it to Westminster, upon which the magistrates dropped their prosecution ; for they were ashamed to have. such palpable oppression seen in any court but their own. At the six months' end, he was discharged from his con finement, TROSSE. 183 finement, which he esteemed the place of his enlarge ment : for the prison was inconceivably better to him than a palace, more comfortable, and more profitable to his soul. He enjoyed his health, followed his studies, and in the night foimd his meditations upon God more sweet than ever. When dissenting protestants were permitted and allowed to worship God according to their con sciences, by a law made in the first year of King William and Queen Mary, (commonly called the act of toleration) he again preached publicly in church-time, and so conti nued to his death. Mr. Trosse had very great abilities, both natural and ac quired. He was a great reader, but especially of the Holy Scriptures, the analogy of which he preserved in his own miad, and warmly recommended to others. In his ser mons, he was very plain, persuasive, and methodical ; and was much blessed with success in his ministry. In his duty, he was very exact. He would not baptize privately,; but in the congregation. He was also very scareful of whom he admitted to the Lord's Supper, suspending dis orderly walkers from that Sacrament^ which he thought belonged only to the faithful and approved. He did not ;chuse to administer it to dying persons, thinking (to use the words of Bishop Burnet) that it was ' a vulgar and fatal error, by which people fancy, if they receive the Sa crament at their death, their peace is made with God : as if it were a passport to heaven.' He was for singing David's Psalms, and Scripture hymns^ and joined with the congregation in the performance ot that duty with much affection. He would not rise from ' his seat, or put forth his hand to receive a note, though held up to him, until the singing was ended ; much less would he employ himself in reading over such notes as were put up, while others were praising God. He dis liked the use of hymns of private composure in God's public worship. Whereas Mr. Bampfield seemed to be of the opinion, that it would be better to have men's or mi nisters' own inventions in singing of psalms, than the di vine inspirations of David, and other authors in Scripture : " When I can believe (saith he) that theirs can be bet> ter than those in Scripture; or can be convinced that there is neither psalm nor hymn in the Bible that can fit a present condition, eitlier for prayer, or praise, or grati tude, &c. I will think so : But as to the former of these two, I hope I shall never believe it ; and as to the latter, I think 184 TROSSE. 1 think it is not likely to fall out in my days." He shewed great reverence in the worship of God, and was displeased with the rudeness and carelessness of others. Though he did not think that one place under the gospel is more holy than another, so as to render the service performed in it more acceptable to God, or that bodily reverence is due unto it; yet he thought that while Christians were assem bled for, and actually engaged in public ordinances, the want of outward reverence betrayed an ill temper of mind. When he did not pray or preach himself, he gave a good example, frequently kneeling in prayer, and continuing uncovered as long as any exercises of religion were per forming, and no longer. He did not love to see any put themselves into lazy and indecent postures, while they were employed in holy things, as if they had no sense of what they were doing, or designed to affront that glorious Majesty with whom they had to do. He behaved himself as a son of peace, and was of a mo derate healing spirit. His principles and practices were truly catholic : he longed for the union of Christians in those things which are essential to Christianity ; bewailed the breaches and divisions which are among protestants, and would have done any thing but sin in order to heal them. He was a happy instrument of maintaining unity and concord in the city where he lived, and of restoring it to other places. For many years before his death there were no considerable differences or animosities among those who belonged to the three united congregations in Exeter,- f upon whom he bestowed his labours. He heard many dif ferences, and was often desired to make up breaches, and decide controversies, in which he had good success ; per sons being ' generally pleased with his determinations. While some, who know not the way of peace, are (as one says) for unchurching, unchristening, and unministering protestants at home and abroad, he owned all such as were united to Christ the head, and did not think that others' disclaiming us, as if we were not children of the same Fa ther, would warrant our disowning or rejecting them ; for froward, uncharitable brethren are brethren still. His soul came not into their secret, who, having their hearts inflamed with rash zeal, set the church and the world on fire. To one who wrote, that it was not without a very sensible regret that he was forced to dissent from him, about the new singing, he replied, " You have no more reason ¦to regret your dissent from me, than I have mine from you ; for in all things we cannot agree till we come to know. TROSSE. 185 know as we are known, and to sing our hallelujahs in an everlasting consort, where our voices will never clash, nor shall we any more dispute about, nor trouble one another for the mode of them." This his peaceable temper made Mr. Baxter thus conclude a letter, which he wrote him but a few months before his own death, August 8, 1691. ' Dear brother, I rejoice to hear of your health, and la bour, and love to concord and moderation, being vour languishing, now useless, fellow-servant.' I shall end this observation with that prayer, wherewith he con cludes his Vindication of his Discourse of Schism : " The Lord, the God of all flesh, and the Father of all spirits, pour out the spirit of love, "wisdom, humility, and forbearance, upon all his faithful servants, that whereto we have attained in the grand and saving fundamentals of doctrine and experience, we may all walk by the same rule, and mind the same things, and wherein we are otherwise minded, and differ in remole matters from those funda mentals, we may wait till God shall reveal the truth unto us ; and, in the mean time, grant us condescending, heal ing, and forbearing spirits mutually toward each other, and hush all uncharitable, violent, and rending spirits and methods, whereby our breaches are more widened, God more dishonoured, Satan more pleased, and sin and guilt more increased ; that, if possible, peace and unity may be had on earth: if not, this is our comfort, that it will be completed and eternalized in heaven." When he had a family, he walked within his house with a perfect heart, and was. an example of strict and serious god liness, A. D. 1680, he married Susanna, the daughter of Mr. Richard White, an eminent merchant in Exeter, of whom he himself says, that " she was pious and religious, prudent and frugal, sober and temperate, sedate and com posed, seldom or never moved with passion, a very de lightful and advantageous yoke-fellow." He was a' very affectionate husband to her, and most compassionately tender of her in afflictions ; he made provision for her by his will, and left her a comfortable maintenance. He paid great respect to her parents, and was kind and obliging to her brothers and sisters. He once took a journey of near fourscore miles, on purpose to visit and comfort one of her sisters when she laboured under spiritual trouble. To . his servants he was a kind and gentle master, being careful of them in health and sickness, instructing them in, and exhorting them to their duty, and calling upon them to redeem time for secret prayer. His meek and quiet spirit ma4§ 186 T R O S S E. made him easy with his domestics ; he neither spaki roughly to them for trivial matters, nor did he aggravate such faults as were committed through forgetfulness, but rather excused what was not sinful. Under several fits of sickness and disorders of body, he enjoyed a blessed com posure of mind, and good hope of everlasting happiness, without any anxieties about his future state. When he was ill in a peripneumony, a worthy minister who visited him, asked him how he did, he answered, " Here my heavenly Father is pleased to lay his rod upon my back, but I desire to bless him for that he shines upon my con science." At another time he said to another pious minis ter, " God hath made me to see that he is well pleased with me in Jesus." To one who asked him whether he had assurance, he replied, " I have a strong confidence of heaven, and believe I shall go thither : But I never had any great joys, except when I was in prison, and in a great sickness in 1688." In another sickness, he said to some who stood by his bedside, " Death is no terror to me : I can look with comfort into the grave." And at another time, " It is no more to me to die, or to think of dying, than to go from one room to another." Again, he said to a relation, " As far as I know, all is well within." Dining at a friend's house, when some present expressed their fears of the small-pox, he said, " Let them be afraid to die, who have no God to go to." For some weeks before his decease, he complained that he was weak and indisposed ; yet would not remit any thing of his public work, private studies, or secret devo tions. He had been long preparing for, and expecting his dissolution. And the evening before he was taken away, he told his wife very positively, that the time of his departure was at hand. This he spake with a great deal of Chris tian courage, without betraying any slavish fear. When he perceived that she was much affected with his words, he desired her not to be troubled, and put her in mind that he had been a great while with her. She being solicitous about an affair of consequence, inquired of him concern ing it. He said he would not think or speak about the world then ; for he would prepare for the Lord's Day which was approaching, but on Monday (God willing) he would satisfy her. Though he did not live till that time, she found all safe and well. The Lord's Day he rose early in the morning, and preached at the meeting near Southgate, in the forenoon. Though his indisposition grew upon him, it did not hinder him from going through his work. In TROSSE. 187 In his prayer after sermon, he gave thanks to God for assisting him who was weak in body, but (as he was pleased to say, according to his wonted humility) much more weak in his soul. As he was returning home, being seized with faintness, and carried into an apothecary's house, he said, " I am dying." When he was a little recovered, and had a prospect of the King of Terrors, who was just ready to seize him, he was not at all dismayed, but looked the last enemy in the face with comfort, and received the sentence of death with cheerfulness, saying to those friends who were about him, " There will shortly be an end of all sin, sorrow, and trouble. I thank you for all your kindnesses to an unworthy servant of Christ." When they expostu lated with him for preaching under such disorders, he said, " It becomes a minister to die preaching." He could not be prevailed upon to be carried in a chair, but walked home. Before he got thither he began to grow faint again. An intimate friend, who attended him, entreated him to sit down, but he refused. When he was just got into his own house, he fell down; after which his lips kept moving for some time. Though his tongue, which had been a ready and faithful servant, now failed him, yet he seemed to be still breathing after God in fervent prayer ; * his friend thought he heard him pronounce the words, Jesus' sake. The physician was called, and rich cordials administered, but could not reach his case, and renew a life quite spent and worn out in labour and watchings, and so in about three quarters of an hour he quietly surrendered his spirit to God, about one o'clock, the 11th of January 1712-18, when he had lived eighty-one years and eleven weeks, and been an ordained minister above six-and-forty years. On the Thursday following, January the 15th, his re mains were carried from his own house to St. Bartholomew's church-yard, in Exeter, attended by a very great mul titude, among whom were many of the gentry of the city and county, who did him honour at his death. He was buried near the east wall, by the grave of a kinsman who bore his name. His executrix hath erected over him a plain fair monument, on the top of which, being a black marble stone, is the following epitaph of his own com posing : Hie * What was said of Bishop Jewel might be applied to him : ' It is hard to determine whether his natural heat or his zeal, was first extin guished; whetherAis prayers or his soul first arrived at heaven ; (us he died praying, and prayed dying." 188 HALYBURTON. Hie jacet Peccatorum maximus, Sanctorum minimus, Concionatorum indignissimus, GEORGIUS TROSSE, Hujus Civitatis Indigena et Incola : Qui huic maligna valedixit Mundo Undecimo Die Mensis Junuarii, Anno Dom. MDCCXII. JElat. iSWLXXXII. His Works. " I. The Lord's Day Vindicated: Or, the First Day of the Week the Christian Sabbath. In answer to Mr. Bampfield's Plea for the Seventh Day, in his En quiry, Whether Jesus Christ be Jehovah, and gave the Moral Law ?- And, whether the fourth Command be~re- pealed or altered? By G. T. a well-wisher to Truth and Concord. London, printed 1682, 8vo. II. The Pastor's Care and Dignity, and the People's Duty : A Sermon preached at the Assembly of Ministers at Taunton, the 7th of September 1692. By G. T. London, printed 1693, 8vo. III. A Discourse of Schism, designed for the satisfaction pf conscientious and peaceable Dissenters. London, printed 1701, 4to. IV. A Defence of a brief Discourse of Schism, designed for the satisfaction of peaceable and conscientious Dissenters : Being an Answer to Aerius Prostratus, &c. Oxon. printed 1702, 4to. V. Mr. Trosse's Vindication of himself from several Aspersions cast upon him. Oxon. printed 1709, 8vo. VI. He also drew up the Explication of the five last Answers, in Mr. Flavel's Exposition of the Assembly's Catechism, and put a Preface to it." THOMAS HALYBURTON, Professor of Divinity in the University of St. Andrew's. A HE account which Mr. Halyburton himself has given, of his own life and experience, is so voluminous and diversified, that it is impossible for us, however edifying in itself, to introduce even a moderate extract into these volumes. We are ready to own, that our limits are too confined to extend the accounts of many ex cellent persons, or to admit those of others, whom we should have been glad, for public usefulness, to have col lected HALYBURTON. 189 lected and comprized : But we cannot, with justice to our proposals, go beyond those limits, and therefore must do as well as we can within them. Mr. Thomas Haliburten, or Halyburton, was born at Duplin, in the parish of Aberdalgy, near Perth, Dec. 25, 1674. His father had been minister of that parish, but was, in the year 1662, ejected, with about three hundred ministers more, for nonconformity. — What pity is it, that good men should worry each other ? — They should leave barking and biting to the wolves of the world. His father died in 1682, in the 55th year of his age ; and his mo ther, who appears to have been an excellent woman, with drew into Holland from the violences of the times, with this her son Thomas, and his elder sister Janet, with her husband. Mr. Halyburton was then very young. While he was in this country, he was put to Erasmus's school to learn Latin, which language he acquired as well as the Dutch : And he continued here till August 1687, when he narrowly escaped shipwreck in returning to Scotland. Upon his return, he resumed his studies, and at length was sent to the university, where he made great profi ciency' When he had finished his course there, he became chaplain to a noble family, in which he met a. person of deistical principles, who, in the false apostleship of per version, gave him no small trouble. This engaged him to study the controversy with care ; and the fruit of his studies upon this head may be seen in his book against the deists. It doth not appear, however, that he had made theo logy his particular study above two years, before the pres bytery of Kirkcaldy importuned him to enter upon trials for the ministry ; and accordingly he was licensed by them to preach, Jurte 22, 1699. -He was appointed minister of Ceres parish, May 1, 1700 : And, in the following year he married with Janet, daughter of Mr. David Watson, heritor in the parish of St. Andrew's, a person of an amiable character. By her he had three sons and six daughters, most of whom, toge ther with their mother, survived him. Within a few years after his settlement at Ceres, his health began to fail; and at length his indispositions so much increased, that with great difficulty he went through the labours incident to so large a parish. In April 1 710, he was appointed, by patent from Queen Anne, professor of divinity in the new college of St. Andrew's, through the mediation of the Synod of Fife: And, 190 HALYBURTON. And, in this situation, on the 23d of September 1712, he resigned this dying life to live for ever. As to his person, he was but of low stature, his body thin and small, with black hair and a fair complexion. His temper was naturally very pleasant and cheerful ; nor was its evenness impaired by his frequent disorders. ' He had (says a writer of his own country) a peculiar talent for composing differences. The prospect of divisions was afflicting to him : And bad some others been blessed with more of this spirit, his and our fears had been utterly dis appointed.' In a word, he was, Very diligent in his func tion, using to say, " A lazy minister in his younger years would make ,a poor old man :" And his life and conver sation were very exemplary and very edifying, upon all other occasions. As he lived, so he died, full of comfort and of confi dence in his God. Some few extracts, from the large account given in his memoirs, may at once convince the reader of this, and edify him too. He departed, we have observed, on the 23d of September 1712 ; and on the 18th preceding, being then on his death-bed, he said to a friend, " O what a terrible con flict had J yesterday ! But I can now say, — / have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith. He hath now filled my month with a new song, Jehovah-jireh, in the mount of the Lord it shall be seen. Praise is comely for the upright. I shall shortly get a different sight of God from what I have ever had, and shall be more meet to praise him for ever. O the thoughts of an incarnate God are sweet and ravishing ! And O how I wonder at myself that I do not love him more, that I do not admire him more ! What a wonder that I enjoy such composure under all my bodily pain, and in the view of death I What a mercy, that having the use of my reason I can declare his good ness to me !" On this occasion he said to bis wife, — " He came to me in the third watch of the night, walking upon the waters ; and said to me, — / am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I was dead, and am alive, and live for evermore, and have the keys of hell and of death. He hath stilled the tempest, and there is a sweet calm in my soul." Being attended by the physician, he said to him, " The greatest kindness I am now able to shew you, is to com mend religion to you. There is, doctor, a reality in re ligion. This is an age that hath lost the sense of it. But he hath not said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye my face in vain. I bless the Lord I have seen that holiness yields peace an 4 HALYBURTON. 191 and comfort in prosperity and adversity : Therefore / am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, because it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth. I am so far froirt altering my thoughts of religion on account of the opposition it meets with, and the contempt with which it is treated, that these things endear it the more to me. For the simplicity of gospel-worship, many must have now-a- days the pomp and parade of devotion. This is an evidence of the decay of religion : For when people have not the power and spirituality of it in their hearts, they must have something to please their senses. This is my judgment, and I speak the words of truth and soberness : Every one that is in Christ Jesus is a new creature. He hath union with Christ, and a new nature. This is the groundwork of the matter. The Christian religion is little understood by most of us. Get acquaintance with God. It is good to have him to go to, when we are turning our faces to the wall. He is known for a refuge in the palaces of Sion, a very present help in trouble. But, O the strange hardness in the heart of man ! I believe there are few who are come to maturity, but, when they see others dying, fall under a conviction that they themselves, must die ; yet they are not duly affected with it. What they see is like one rising from the dead. They have Moses and the prophets ; if they hear not them, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead. We must have an ear from God before we can hear." On that day he had, at bis own desire, one of Mr. Rutherford's letters read to him. Whereupon, addressing himself to those about him, he said, " That is a book I would commend to you all. There is more practical religion in that letter (the 130th to Mr. John Mein) than in some large volumes on the subject." Being attended by the apothecary, a young man, he said to him, " The Lord shew you mercy. Study religion in your younger years; and remember, that you will, on a death-bed, have no comfort without it. And I solemnly warn you, that if you shall become hardened by the fre quent sight of persons in my circumstances, you will be in danger of losing all sensibility of conscience^ and of being hardened for ever." To three of his brethren in the ministry, he said, " When I have been diligent in study and meditation, I have ever found the Lord shining upon me, and testifying his approbation. There is nothing to be had with a slack hand. It was the delight of my heart to preach the Gospel, insomuch that it made me sometimes neglect a frail body. I have ever thought, that if I could contribute 192 ,H A L Y B U R T 0 N. contribute to the saving of a soul, it would be a star, st crown, and a glorious crown. I know that this was the' thing I aimed at. I desired to decrease, that the Bride-1 groom might increase ; and to be nothing, that he might be all; and I rejoice in his highness. I was fond enough of books ; but I must tell you, that in the course of my ministry, what the Lord let me see of my bad heart, and of what was necessary against it, was of more avail than all my books." Afterwards, to two other ministers, he said,' " The work of the ministry was my deliberate choice. And were my days to be much lengthened, and the times at hand as troublesome as they are like to be, I woUld ra ther be a contemned minister of God than the greatest - prince on earth. I preached the Gospel with pleasure; for I loved it, as the salvation of my own soul was upon it ; and I have not changed my thoughts of it since. I exhort vou to be very diligent. There may be hard conflicts. We are all good, untried : But we have need to watch and be sober, and to have on us continually the whole armour of God." To a certain gentleman who was on a visit to him, he said, " Follow the example of Jesus Christ, and-be con versant with the word of God. Be careful not only to' read the word, (you may soon be tired of that) but like wise to pray for the Spirit of the Lord to quicken it. For when this shall be granted, you will pursue the word- as the child does the breast, who cannot live without it. And, withal, be diligent in your attendance^on ordinances." On the same day, he said to another person, " Let not the scorn and contempt, which are thrown on religion, induce you to give it up. You have found it not in vain to seek the Lord. The Scriptures of truth are writings contemned Of men, but they are able lo make you wise to salvation: You will find your account in "conversing with therh. The course 1 have weakly followed hath been at least to side with them that are for God : And, now it is come to a push, I have peace. I have always wished to have God for my God, and to have the heritage of his chosen! And I have heard some of them, who have walked contrary to him, and forsaken him, when they were brought to ex tremities cry out, each for himself,—' Shame on the way which I have run." The next night, finding some sweat on' his face, he said,; " I fancy it is an indication of a greater ehange. But I know not how it comes to pass, that one, Who hath met with so much of God as I have, should' be so disingenuous as in the least to doubt him for what is ~~ to HALYBURTON. 193 to follow. O what an evil heart of unbelief, cursed un belief, have I ! O how much hath God honoured me ! O that I should yet have such an enemy in my bosom as an evil heart !" The same night, after the reading to him, at his own desire, of some comforting passages in the Word of God, he said, — " Now, ther^ it is all. I was under an heavy damp, but God hath delivered me, and filled me with peace : And I hope he will deliver me, even from that which I have feared in death. I hope the God of peace will so bruise Satan under my feet shortly, as that he shall get up no more ; and give me the victory over a cunning world and a deceitful heart. O many a weary day I have had with my unbelief." On September 19, in the morning, being desired to lie still and try if he could not sleep, he replied, — " Should not I employ the last remains of my strength to set forth his glory?" Then, lifting up his hands, he said, — " Lame hands, and lairie legs ; (his hands arid legs being greatly swelled) but see a lame man leaping and rejoicing." Find ing himself, before noon, very weak, he took leave of his wife and children, saluting and speaking particularly to each. His words on this occasion to his wife were, — " A kind and affectionate wife you have been. The Lord bless you ; and he will bless you." After this, having his ser vants called together, he said to them, — " My dear friends, make religion your main business, and mind that above all things. I charge you all, beware of graceless masters, and endeavour to live with those that fear God." He then said, — " Here is a demonstration of the reality and power of faith and godliness. I, a poor, weak, and timorous man, once as much afraid of death as any one ; I, who was many years under the terrors of death, come, in the1 mercy of God, and by the power of his grace, composed ly and with joy to look death in the face. 1 have seen it in its paleness, and all the circumstances of horror that attend it. I dare look it irf the face in its most ghastly Shape, and hope to have, in a little time, the victory over it." Some ministers being come to see him, he said to them, among other things, " Well, Sirs, what shall we say of the Lord Jesus Christ ? He is altogether lovely. O study the word. Observe the accomplishment of it. It is the thing 1 have loved all my days, and it is sweet to the last." Afterwards, exhorting some to think of death, he said, " To think of death is a profitable thing. But this is not done by going into church-yards, and visiting tombs, but bv getting under the impressions of death in VOL. IV. O its 194 HALYBURTON. its first appearance and cause, and in its different issues and consequences, with a view to both covenants; that of works, by which it was brought into the world, and that of grace, by which believers are delivered from it." Soon after, at his own desire, a large writing was read over, which he had dictated some days before, and which con tained his solemn declaration and testimony in defence of the faith of the gospel, together with advice to his family. This being done, he declared that he had dictated -the wholes ana desired all who were present to remember and attest it. This being by far too long to insert here, I must refer the reader to the memoirs of his life. Afterwards, among other things, he said, " I know that a great deal of what is said by a dying man will pass for canting and roving : But, I bless God, he hath so preserved the little judgment I had, that I have been able to reflect with composure on his dealings with me. I am sober and composed, if ever I was sober. And whether men will forbear, or whether they will hear, this is a testimony. Am not I a man wonderfully upheld of God under afflic tion and death ? The death of the saints is made a deri sion in our day. But if I am laughed at, I can laugh again ; and I think I have most reason. When such peo ple shall come to my pass, they will not dare to laugh. / will rejoice in my God, and joy in the God of my salvation. I want death to complete my happiness." September 20. Among many other heavenly and very affecting things, spoken in the like spirit of faith and joy with those already inserted here, he said to those about him, " You will meet with difficulties and discourage ments; but this may encourage you, that God owns his servants : And now I find, that he meets them who re joice and work righteousness : Glory, glory to him. 0 what of God do I see ! I have never seen any thing like it. The beginning and end, Sirs, of religion are wonder fully sweet. Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, kc. Not that I call myself perfect : The Lord knows I am far from it. I have found corruption stirring since you came in this morning." After which, a friend having said to him, ' The Lord's dealing with you hath been very uncommon :' He replied, " Uncommon indeed, if you knew all that I know. But in this is the glory of the Lord, that he makes the weak strong ; and so the excel lency of the power is more plainly seen." Afterwards, " I long for his salvation. I bless his name I have found hiiu HALYBURTON; 195 him. I am taken up in blessing him. I am dying, re joicing in the Lord." September 21, being the Lord's Day, he said, " Shall I forget Zion ? Nay, let my right hand forget her cunning, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy. 0, to have God returning to this church, and his work going forward in the world! If all the drops of my blood, all the parti cles of my body, and all the hairs of my head were men, they should for this go all to the fire. O, Sirs, I could not have believed that I should bear, and bear cheerfully as I have done, this rod which hath lain on me so long: This is a miracle : Pain without vpain. And this is not the fancy of a man disordered, but of one who is fully composed. O blessed be God that ever I was born. I have a father and a mother, and ten brethren and sisters in heaven, and I shall be the eleventh. O blessed be the day that ever I was born ! O that I were where he is ! And yet, were God to withdraw from me, I should be as weak^as water. All that I enjoy, though it be miracle on miracle, would not support me without fresh supplies from God. The thing I rejoice in is this, that God is al together full, and that in the Mediator Christ Jesus is all the fulness of the Godhead, and it will never run out." September 22. He said, among other things, "lawokein a sort of carnal frame, and thought I had lost my jewel; but now I hope he will stand by me to the end. If ever I was of clear judgment and memory in my life, it hath been since he laid his hand on me. What shall I render to him? My bones are tearing through my skin, and yet all my bones are praising him. — Glory to God, that a vile worm, , the chief of sinners^ is singled out to be a monu ment of his grace and a trumpeter of his praise, — I listened to unbelief since I came to this bed, and it had almost killed me; but God rebuked me. — I sought the victory by prayer, and God gave it me. — He is the hearer of prayer." After struggling with a defluxion in his throat, he said, — " The Lord hath sent another messenger for me to hasten me home." And some persons present fixing their eyes on him with looks expressive of a wonderful at tention, he said to them, — " Why look you so stedfastly on me, as if by my might and power I were as I am? Not I, but the grace of God in me. It is the Spirit of God that supports me." Afterwards he said, — " What cannot grace do? You see a man dying a monument of the glo rious power of astonishing grace; and generations to come shall call me blessed. Follow my advice. Study the power of 196 HALYBURTON. of religion. It is the power of religion, and not a name, that will give the comfort I find. There is telling in this providence, and I shall be telling it to eternity. If there be such a glory in his conduct towards me now, what will it be to see the Lamb in the midst of the throne ! The Lamb that was slain in the midst of the throne ! — My peace hath been like a river." To some of his brethren in the ministry he said, — " What a demonstration hath God given to you and myself of the immortality of the soul by the vigour of my intellectuals, and the lively ef forts of my spirit towards God, and the things, of God, now when my body is so low and so pained?" At night he became very weak, and, after a sore struggle, he said, Ebenezer. Some time after which he said, — " When I shall be so weakened as not to be able to speak, I will give you, if I can, a sign of triumph when I am near to glory." A good while after, having made some efforts to vomit, he said, " I am effectually choked :" And lifting up his eyes, said, — " Pity, pity, Lord." Then, speaking to hit wife and those about him, he said,—" Be not discouraged. The Lord's way is the best way, and I am composed. Whether I go away in a fit of vomiting or fainting, it is all one. — I did not know whether I was up or down." Soon after, one of those about him having said, — ' You are now putting your seal to that truth, That great is the gain of godliness :' He replied, — " Yes, indeed." Then said another, — ' And, I hope, you are encouraging your self in the Lord.' On which, not being able to speak, he lifted up his hands and clapped them. And quickly after he departed to the land where the weary are at rest. His Works. 1. " The great Concern of Salvation: In three Parts, viz. 1. A Discovery of Man's Natural State : Or, The Guilty Sinner Convicted. 2. Man's Be- cbvery by Faith in Christ : Or, The Convinced Sinner's Case and Cure. 3. The Christian's Duty, with respect to both personal and family Religion. Glasgow, 8vo. 1770. II. Ten Sermons preached before and after the Celebra tion of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper: To which are added, Two Sermons preached upon occasion of the Death of a Friend, ibid. 2d edit." To these Discourses is prefixed an excellent Preface by Dr. Watts, highly ex pressive both of their own worth and of their Author's. There is also another to the same purpose by Mr. Tho mas Black : And we regret that we cannot insert both of them in our work, as they merit the consideration of every reader. Front t/u- original JMitruiy M- HENRY- 197 MATTHEW HENRY. I HE life of this excellent Person is extracted from the large account given of it by Mr. Tong, who was well acquainted with him, as a fellow-minister and friend of his family. Mr. Matthew Henry was born on the 18th of October 1662, at Broad-Oak, in the town of Iscoid in Flintshire, within the parish of Malpas, which is in Cheshire. His father was the eminent Mr. Philip Henry, whose name hath long been very precious, not only in that country, but in most parts of England. His mother was Mrs, Katharine Matthews, daughter and heir of Mr.lpaniel Matthews, of Br;oad-Oak and Brunington, a gentleman of an ancient family and plentiful estate ; the whole whereof, in seven years after their marriage, came into Mr. Henry's hands,: by the death of their father; and was not only a comfortable subsistence for them, when Mr. Philip Henry was turned out of his living at WorthenbUry for noncon formity, but enabled him to preach the gospel freely to his dying day, and to afford seasonable relief to many others in necessity, even to a large proportion of his in come. He was the second S0n and second child of his parents ; his elder brother John, who was born a year be fore him,! died m his sixth year; of the measles ; he was a child of extraordinary pregnancy and forw^^ess in learning, and of a very good disposition ; his excellent father has left this short memorial of him, Prctterc/ue eetalem nil puerile fuil.' Before he was seized- wSh the dis temper of which, he died, he was much affected with some verses he had me? with in Mr. White's bo.ok, called-' The Power of Godliness' about those that die young ;' these verses are recited in the life of the father, to which I must refer those that desire to know what they were, that made such impressions upon that tender mind. Mr: Matthew Henry was himself sick at the same time with his brother ; and of the same disease of which his brother died, he very narrowly escaped death. Goo had a great work for him to do, and spared the tender grape for the blessing that was in it ; and a great blessing it has proved to be, to his family, to his friends, and to the church of God*. He was but a weakly child, often subject to agues, and other indispositions, which yet were SQ 198 M. H E N R Y. so ordered and limited by his heavenly Father, as neither to hurt his great capacity for learning, nor hinder his improvements, even in those early days of his life. He, was able to read a chapter in the Bible very distinctly at about three years old, and with some observation of what he read ; and, indeed, as one of his near relations, and the companion of his younger days, declares, his childish years were sooner over in him than in other per sons ; he very early put away childish things. When he was ten years old (the time from which he dates his effectual calling) he was visited with a lingering fever, which brought him very low, his life was almost despaired of, and death every day expected ; this was a great trial of the faith and patience of his good parents. His father, who used to say, ' Weeping must not hinder sowing,' was obliged to go out to- a place at some distance to preach the gospel, and left his son very ill, but he must be about his Father's business ; and at that ^me they had an indulgence granted by the king; at his return, he found matters much as he left them, his son, his only son whom he loved, in extreme danger. There was then at his house a good old gentlewoman, the widow of theReverend Mr. Zachary Thomas, helping and comforting them under this affliction : Mr. Philip Henry told them, ' At such a place and time upon the road, I did most solemnly, freely, and deliberately resign up my dear child unto God, to do what he pleased with him and me. Mrs. Thomas re plied, ' And I believe, Sir, in that place and time God gave him back to you again :' It is certain, after this he speedily and sensibly recovered. His sister, who gave this account, observed upon it : ' Though I was then but a child of eight years old, and could think but as a child,. I was very much affected with that discourse between my father and Mrs. Thomas ; it tended to endear my brother the more to me, since I really believed he was given back to us again in an extraordinary, manner. He always had the greatest duty and deference for his parents, and always paid it in a most becoming manner: he laid up their words in his heart ; when he was very young, he would attend with a very uncommon diligence upon his father's preaching, and would often be so affected with it, that as soon qs the exercise was over, he would hasten to his closet, and there weep and pray over the word, and sometimes would hardly be prevailed with to come down to dinner on the Lord's Day, lest the word Should slip away from him, or the warm impressions be lost. The M. HENRY. 199 The Reverend Mr. Turner, while he was at Broad-Oak, was partly a tutor to the son, and partly a pupil to the father; he introduced Mr. Matthew Henry into grammar learning, but his father carried him on in it ; it was from his father that he had the greatest advantages of his edu cation, both in divine and human literature ; under his eye and care he continued, till he was about eighteen years old, growing up in wisdom and goodness, and in favour with God and man. His father neglected no op portunity to cultivate such a mind : he spared no pains ; and I have some reason to believe, few young ministers are better qualified for that work when they enter upon it, than Mr. Matthew Henry was when he left his father's house ; and it is no disparagement to his after-studies, or to the conduct of those under whose care he was placed, if I venture to say, the helps he had for furnishing himself in the knowledge of things human and divine, in his father's house, contributed more to his fitness for the ministry, than all the advantages he enjoyed in any other place. He was very expert in the learned languages, and espe cially in the. Hebrew, which had been made familiar to him from his childhood ; he never cared to make any ostentation of it, but he did not fail to make use of it in his study of the Scriptures, which, from his first to his last, was his most delightful employment. Mr. Matthew Henry has told the world in the account of his father's life, how intimate a friendship there was between him and that learned and religious gentleman, Rowland Hunt of Boreatton, Esq. who married lady Frances, daughter to the Lord Paget. To this family Mr. Matthew Henry frequently resorted after he first came down from London, and here he was always very ac ceptable and welcome. Mr. Hunt was so well apprised of his great capacity for yet further improvements, that he advised his fasher to let him return to London again, and enter himself in one of the inns of court, and spend some time in the study of the law. It was not Mr. Hunt's pur pose in this, to draw him off from his design of being a minister* but the times were then very dark ; he was young, had time enough before him to mix that with his other studies ; the knowledge of the law would not only be convenient for one that was heir to an handsome estate, but might be of use for the better understanding the nature of the divine law and government, and the foren sic terms so much used in the Holy Scriptures, and other divinity books, both ancient and modern. Mr, Hunt's advice 200 - M. HENE Y. advice was approved of both by the father and the son, and accordingly Mr. Matthew Henry went to Gray's Inn towards the latter end of April, in the year 1685. Here he went on in his usual diligence, improving his time by close study, and diligent researches into the nature of the divine and human laws; he loved to look into the body of the civil law, and did not neglect to acquaint himself with the municipal laws of his own country ; his proficiency was soon observed, and it was* the opinion of those that conversed there with him, that his great industry, quick apprehension, good judgment, tenacious memory, and ready utterance, wouldpiave rendered him very eminent in the practice of the law, if he had betaken himself to it as his business ; but he was true to his first and early resolution, and therefore while he was at Gray's Inn, he not only promoted social prayer and religious conference with his particular friends, but would sometimes expound the Scripture to them ; and when he left them, he bade them farewell in an excellent lively discourse from 2 Thes. ii. 1. By the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and our gathering together to him, the hope of that blessed Es-ic-uvayajfn, he re commended to himself and them as their greatest comfort, now they were parting one from another. In the month of June 168G, he came down from Lon don to Broad-Oak, and staid some months in the coun try, and there he soon made it appear, that his study of the law, and his London conversation, had not drawn his heart away from the study, of the Scriptures, or his designs for the ministry; he now began to preach pretty often as a candidate for that work, and every where met with great acceptation and encouragement. The Reverend Mr. Steele was concerned in the .ordination of both the Mr. Henrys, father and son, in the life of Mr. Philip Henry you will find, that in the year 1657, September 16, Mr. Steele was one of those that ordained him at Frees in Shropshire, and now almost thirty years after he is con cerned in the ordination of his son'; this circumstance must be very pleasing botii to father and son, and it could not be less pleasing to Mr. Steele himself, (that faithful preacher) that he should be employed under Christ in sending out two such ministers into the vineyard, such a father and such a son. Towards the, latter end of May 1687, the same month on which he was ordained, he took his leave of London, and madebuta very short stay at Brosd- Oak ; for on the first of June, Mr. Greig, Mr. Cooker, Mr. Hall, and some others, came to meet him at his father's house, M, H E N R Y. 201 house, and attended him to Chester ; the day following, being Thursday, was some time before chosen to be the lecture-day, then he preached his first sermon publicly, from 1 Cor. ii. 2. I determined to know nothing among you but Jesus Christ, and him crucified. Some time in 1687, Mr. Henry- married Mrs. Katharine, daughter of Mr. Hardware, a pious young person, with whdm he lived but a short time ; for she died of the small-pox in child-bed, on the 14th of February 1689. This was an heavy trial to her parents, being their only child, as well as to Mr. Henry. The offspring, however, was spared, and lived to be married. This family loss was repaired by a second marriage in July 1690, to a lady of the Warburton family in Cheshire, with whom he lived about twenty years, and who bore him many children. The order of his family was very exemplary, like that of a Christian and a mi nister : For, in the worship of God with*Jiis family, he strictly observed his father's example, baM in all the parts and circumstances of it. He called them together early in the morning, as early as the state of the family would permit, and did not use to defer it till late in the evening, being ashamed to put God off with drowsy de votions ; he was constant in family worship : whatever happened, or whoever was present, this duty was never neglected morning or evening. He was never tedious in it, but always full and comprehensive, performing much in a little time, and yet far from hurrying it over as a task; he was always careful to discharge this duty, so as that he might therein sanctify the name of God. . He began with a short invocation of the name of God, begging assistance and acceptance, then he read a portion of Scripture in course, out of the Old Testament in the morning, and the New in the evening; he did not tie himself Ao go through a chapter at once, but unless it was very short, divided it into several sections, according to the subject matter, which ordinarily consisted of about eight or ten verses, more or less; then he gave a short but. judicious and affectionate exposition, sometimes drawing up the verses read_ into a plain and proper scheme, in which he was the most happy man in the world ; some times he would omit the connection, and only go over the several passages in their order, \ps the matter directed; he / gave the sense, even where it was the most intricate, in a plain and familiar expression, which not only made it in- , telligible, but pleasant and satisfactory to the mind that received it; he omitted not to raise pr&cticaLjiptes, proper to 202 M. HENRY. to quicken the heart to duty, and to direct it in duty. These his family expositions, some that were with him wrote down after him: all attended to them, and that he might engage them to that attention, as soon as the expo sition was over, he required an account of them, what they had observed and remembered; and it was pleasant to behold the young children, how diligently they would listen, and how prettily and properly they would give an account of what they had heard. After exposition, some part of a Psalm was constantly sung in the morning as well as the evening, the morning and evening sacrifice, as he used to call it ; every one had a book, and so neither the sense nor the melody suffered that interruption which can scarcely be avoided where it is read line by line. Prayer succeeded singing, and was performed by him with an almost inimitable liveliness of affection, and ten derness of spirit, with great propriety of petitions to the case of the family, and of every one in it, and of his friends that were so happy as to be present with him at that duty ; the state of the nation and of the church of Gon was never omitted, nor slightly touched upon : all was done without tedious repetition ; the whole was often comprehended within the space of half an hour, or a little more ; this made the work easy and pleasant; it was no unseasonable' hindrance to the necessary business of the family; they returned to the duty with desire, and came from it with delight. " When prayer was ended, his chil dren came to him for his blessing, which he gave them with seriousness and affection, in the name of the great God, who commands the blessing out of Zibn, even life for evermore. How many such prayers and blessings are now upon the file for those he has left behind, which we hope will be made sure and effectual to them in their season ? Besides the daily oblations that were made to God in his family, as constantly as the morning and evening succeeded each other, he often kept family fasts, in which sometimes he would call in the assistance of his friends, sometimes he had only his own family with him, and sometimes he woUld keep them alone 5 on these occa sions he would wrestle with God for spiritual blessings for himself and his family, and his friends; and whatever care, or fear, or trial any of them was under, that was then most solemnl)'- committed to the great God. His public work on the Lord'« Day, great as it was, did not entrench upon family worship: on that day he rose early, and having been some time alone with God and his own soul, M. HENRY. 203 soul, about eight of the clock he called his family toge ther ; he omitted not his expositions ; he sung an hymn proper to the day, and went through the other parts of worship as usual, and then took his family with him to the solemn assembly ; when he returned home at noon and had dined, he sung a psalm, and put up a short prayer with his family, and so retired into his closet, till the time of public worship returned. In the evening he ge nerally repeated in his family both the sermons of the day, when many of his neighbours came in ; after repeti tion, he sung and prayed ; then sung two verses more of a suitable hymn, and so pronounced the blessing, and ca techized the younger children ; this he used to do before he went to supper; after that was ended, the 136th Psalm, then catechized his elder children and servants, and heard them repeat what they could remember of the sermons of the day, and so concluded the day with prayer. What is delivered concerning the loss of his father, the excellent Mr. Philip Henry, is too remarkable to be passed over. The account that he has left behind him of his fa ther's sickness and death, in his printed narrative, is very affecting, and deserves to be well considered, as a pattern to all of filial piety; but the impressions that sad provi dence made upon his spirit, will best appear by what he has recorded of them in his Diary on that occasion, which you shall have in his own words: " June 23, 1696. This afternoon, about three o'clock, my father's servant came for the doctor, with the tidings that my dear father was taken suddenly ill : I had then some of my friends about me, and they were cheerful with me, but this struck a damp upon all ; I had first thought not to have gone till the next day, it being somewhat late and very wet, and had written half a letter to my dear mother, but I could not help going ; and I am glad I did go, for I have often thought of that, 2 Kings ii. 10. If thou see me when I am taken up from thee, &c. The doctor and I came to Broad- Oak about eight o'clock, and found him in great extremity of pain, nature (through his great and unwearied labours) unable to bear up, and sinking under the load: As soon as he saw me he said, ' O son, you are welcome to a dying father : I am now ready to be offered up, and the time of my departure is at hand.' [I omit the rest of his dying words, because they have been already published.] A little after midnight, my mother holding his hands as he sat in bed, arid I holding the pillow to his back, he very quietly, and without any struggling, groan, or rattling, breathed 204 M. H E N R Y. breathed out his dear soul into the hands of the Lord Jesus Christ, whom he had faithfully served. And now, what is this that God hath done unto us ? The thing itself, and the suddenness of it, are very affecting, but the worm wood and the gall in it is, that it looks like a token of God's displeasure to us that survive : the Lord calls my sins to remembrance this day, that I have not profited by him, while he was with us, as I should have done. Our family worship this morning was very melancholy: The place was Allon Baccuth, the oak of weeping; the little children were greatly affected, and among the neighbours was heard nothing but lamentation and mourn ing; my dear mother cast down, but not in despair; I, for my part, am full of confusion, and like a man asto nished. June 27. The day of my father's funeral : me lancholy work ! O that by this providence I might con tract an habitual gravity, seriousness, and thoughtful- ness of death and eternity. Our friends most affec tionately sympathize with us, and do him honour at his death. How has this providence made Broad-Oak like a wilderness, desolate and solitary, and the poor people as sheep without a shepherd ! July 1. I returned late to Chester, and found the children well; the next day I stu died, and preached the lecture from 2 Pet. i. 13, 14. Yea, I think it meet, as long as I am in this tabernacle, lo stir you up, by putting you in remembrance; knowing, that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle, even as our Lord Jesus hath shewed me. O that it might be preaclied to my own heart, and written there, that in consideratibn of my being to depart hence shortly, I may double my diligence f And now I have time to reflect on this sad providence, and what shall I say to these things? 1. I bless God that I ever had such a father, whose temper was so very happy, and Lis gifts and graces so very bright; one that recommended religion and the power of godliness, by a cheerful and en dearing conversation; that had himself, and taught others the art of obliging: I bless God that I had him so long, that he was not removed from me when I was a child; that I have-not been left to myself to be a grief and hea viness to him ; nothing made me differ from the worst but the free grace of God : to that grace be the glory of all the benefit that my father was to/me, and the comfort I was to him ! 2- I have a great deal of reason to be humbled, afid ashamed that I have profited and improved no more by my relation to so good a man, that I have not so well transcribed that fair copy of humility, meek ness, M. HENRY. 205 ness, candour, and zealous piety : 0 that the remembrance of him may have a greater influence upon me, than the personal converse had ! 3. Death comes nearer and nearer to me : Lord, make me to know mine end, and teach me lo number my days. In January last, death came into our classes, and removed good Mr. Kinaston of Knutsford; in February death came into the Friery, [the place where Mr. Henry's house stood] and took away Mrs. Cook : In March death came into my house, and carried away my cousin Aldersey ; in April it came into our family, in the death of my father, Warburton ; at the end of May I said with thankfulness, " Here is a month past in which I have not buried one friend ;" but June has brought it nearest of all, and speaks very loud to me to get ready to go after : the Lord prepare me for a dying hour, that will come certainly, and may come suddenly, that when it comes I may have nothing to do but to die. 4. The great honour and respect paid to his memory, and the good name he has left behind him, should encourage me to faithful ness and usefulness ; the Scripture is fulfilled, Those that honour God he will honour, and before honour is humility. 5. This should bring me nearer to God, and make me live more upon him, who is the fountain of living waters; my dear father was a counsellor to me, but Christ is the wonderful counsellor; he was an intercessor for me, but Christ is an intercessor that lives for ever, and is there fore able to save to the uttermost; nor are the prayers that he has put up for me and mine lost, but I trust we shall be reaping the fruit of them now he is gone ; I have had much comfort in hearing God speak to me by this scripture, Jer. iii. 4. Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me, My Father, thou art the guide of my youth ? My dear father wrote to me lately upon the death of my father Warburton, * Your fathers, where are they ? one gone, and the other going, but you have a good Father in heaven tiiat lives for ever.' Abba, Father, the Lord teach me to cry so, and to come into the holiest as to my Fa ther's house, and let these things be written upon nxv heart. Amen, Amen." Such were the workings of Mr. Henry's heart under this great affliction, where one may see the most tender and sincere affection* to an earthly parent, regulated and go verned by stronger affections of another nature. He had, indeed, to all his relations a most affectionate heart, proving the truth of that maxim, that where the grace of God operates really, the possessor becomes-the better for it in all 206, M. HENRY. all the circumstances of father, mother, husband, wife, son, daughter, master, servant, or friend. And he shewed this truth eminently and by a variety of occasions. As to his ministerial labours, surely if ever man fulfilled his mi nistry since the apostolical age, he was the man ; nobody looks upon his prodigious industry as a common measure, to which all others are obliged to come up ; those that have not the strength of body, freedom and readiness of thought, natural fervour and easiness of expression, can no more come up to his standard, as to the multitude, va riety, and excellency of ministerial services, than a child can bear a strong man's burthen. His labours were so many and great, that in order to our taking a particular view of them, it will be necessary to reduce them to their proper heads, of which you may take the following scheme: They were either such as he was conversant in, I. At home among his own people ; and these were either, 1. Constant; as on the Lord's Day, on lecture- days, catechizing on Saturday, and monthly sacraments, conferences, and congregational fasts. Or, 2. Occasional; and these either, 1. Public, as fasts and thanksgivings; , or, 2. Private, on family occasions, visiting the sick, ad monitions, visiting and preaching to the prisoners at the castle, and reformation sermons. II. Abroad in neighbouring places and congregations ;; as lectures in several places, meetings of ministers, or dinations of ministers, funeral sermons for ministers and others, and yearly journies to visit the churches. We must begin with the ministerial labours he performed at home among his own people ; for though his soul was too large to be confined to them, yet he was very sensible they had the best title to his services, and he never would injure them to supply other churches. His constant work on the Lord's Day at Chester, was to pray six times in public, to sing six times, to expound twice and preach twice ; and this he did for many years together. His method was, after having worshipped God in his family, in the manner that has been already men tioned, he went to the congregation exactly at nine of tlie clock, began the public worship with singing the 100th Psalm, then prayed a short but fervent and suitable prayer, tlien he read some part of the Old Testament, and ex pounded it, going through it in course from the beginning to the end, then he sung another Psalm, then he prayed for about half an hour, then he preached about an hour, then prayed and sung usually the 117th Psalm, and then gave M* HENRY. 207 gave the blessing ; he did the same exactly in the afternoon, only then expounded out of the New Testament, and sung at the end the 134th Psalm, or some verses of the 136th; this was his constant Lord's Day's work. In singing, he always made use of David's Psalms, or other Scripture hymns ; he collected a set of them, such as he thought most useful and edifying, and digested them under proper titles, according to the occasions to which they were adapted. He preferred Scripture psalms and hymns far be fore those that are wholly of human composure, which are generally liable to this exception, that the fancy is too high, and the matter too low, and sometimes such as a wise and good man may not be able with entire satisfaction to offer up as a sacrifice to God. In this work of4 praise he took great delight; one might easily discern how his soul was upon the wing, it was a part of worship for which his soul was particularly formed, being himself of an af fectionate, cheerful, thankful temper. In prayer, his gifts and graces eminently appeared, he had a wonderful faculty of engaging the attention, and raising the affections of his assembly ; in his second prayer, he was always copious, though never tedious ; he was very full in confession of sin, and very tender and humble, aggravating the evil and guilt of it in a very clear and convincing manner ; his prayer was always suited to the state of the congregation, to the season, to the state of the nation, and of the church of God ; in supplication for mercy he was very earnest and particular, pleading the name, and sufferings, and media tion of the Lord Jesus Christ for pardon and peace ; he was large and full in praying for grace, and used to mention the particular graces of the Holy, Spirit, as faith, love, hope, patience, zeal, delight in, God, earnestly begging that these graces might be truly wrought in all, and might be preserved, exercised, increased, and evidenced to the glory of the God of all grace. In his requests for the nation, he was constant and earnest; many a time has he wrestled with God in the pulpit for the land of his nati vity, and herein he expressed himself with humility, meek ness and wisdom, carefully avoiding whatever might appear disrespectful to our governors ; arid though he knew not, how to giye flattering titles, lest his God should cut him off, yet his prayers for those in authority discovered the reverence he had for the government, as the ordinance of God, and for those that God had invested with it; all seditious, saucy reflections upon the ruler of the people, how artfully soever couched, he utterly disliked in com mon « 20S M. HENRY. mon conversation, and therefore could never be guilty of profaning the worship of God with them. The exposition of the Scriptures was a very pleasant part of his work, both in his own house and in the house of God ; what his expositions were from the pulpit may be gathered by what they appear to be from the press : his father's example led him to take delight in this part of h is work, and made it easy to him; and while some commen tators take a great deal of pains to make plain things dark, his endeavour always was to make d»rk things plain, and not only plain, but moving and practical. He kept very close and constant to his business of expounding, and never omitted it, even on a sacrament day ; in the time he was at Chester, he went through the whole Bible more than once, and by this means his people have been observed to excel in theiracquainta*ce with the Holy Scriptures. How great a talent he had in preaching, the world is not igno rant, so many of his sermons being published, and spread far and wide ; he was very happy in the choice of his sub jects : there could no occasion happen, either public or private, but as he was ever ready to preach upon it, so he had always an apposite text to preach upon, being a scribe well instructed in the kingdom of God ; he had a treasure out of which he could easily bring things new and old. His preaching was truly evangelical, spiritual, and practi cal; he shunned not to declare the whole counsel of God; he loved to preach of Christ, and in his diary often de clares, " He was best pleased when he was upon that sweet subject." Having preached concerning Christ as our pass- over, and his blood sprinkled upon the saints as their safe ty, November 20, 1690, he has this remark : " It is most pleasant to me to be preaching Christ ,•" and afterwards, " I am most in my element when I am preaching Christ and him crucified ;" and he loved that others should preach Christ; in the year 1709, May 1, he has recorded it, " This day Mr. Basnet preached Gal. iv. 5. God sent forth his Son : he preached much of Christ, whom I love to hear of." And February 12, 1710, having expounded five of Solomon's Songs, he adds, " The more I think and speak of Christ, the more reason I see to love him." But he thought it also necessary to preach up holiness, and did constantly affirm it as a faithful saying, That they that be lieve on God should be careful to maintain good works ; this saying he knew was as faithful in its place, as that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners ; both of them are faithful sayings, not only true in themselves, but such as ministers M. HENRY.' 209 ministers are bound in faithfulness to insist upon in their preaching, such preaching isjaithful preaching: a faithful saying. Another part of his constant work among his people was that of catechizing; in this also he took great pleasure, be ing full of affection and compassion for the souls of young people: Christ's charge to Peter, to feed the lambs as well as the sheep, he had much at heart, and it was often in his mouth : He knew by experience the benefit of this Christian institution, his good father both abounded and excelled init, as well in his family as in the congregation. Saturday, in the afternoon, was the time set apart for this work, beginning and ending with prayer, in which his expressions were very plain and very tender, suited to the nature of the ordinance and to the capacity of young persons; in this exercise he usually spent about an hour ; it was attended by others be sides the catechumens, and esteemed by them a good means of preparation for the Lord's Day. In this work of cate chizing he was remarkably owned and blessed of God ; he longed for the conversion of young people, and had the desire of his soul, in seeing the good work begun in many of his catechumens; of these he always spoke with a par ticular respect; and when any, of whom he had entertain ed good hopes, grew loose and vain, (and notwithstanding all his care and pains, there were some such) he sadly la mented their sin, and his disappointment in them, and ceased not to pray earnestly to God for them, " That he would recover them out of the snare of the devil, before their hearts were hardened with the deceitfulness pf sin." Visiting the sick he took to be an essential part of his mi nistry, and he was very diligent in it, never refusing to go either to rich or poor, when sent for, unless hindered by- invincible necessity; in this he did not confine his visits to those of his own congregation, or of his own opinion ; he was often sent for to visit those in communion with the established church, and to strangers, travellers, and passen gers to or from Ireland, and he readily complied, and did indeed abound in this part of his work, which to many tempers has something in it very difficult and disagreeable.- We have avery uncommon instance of his diligence, and zeal, and love to souls, in the frequent compassionate visits that he made to the poor prisoners, and even to the malefac tors in the castle at Chester, to pray with them and preach to them, both before and after their trial and condemnation* Another sort of ministerial service in which Mr. Henry was engaged at Chester, was preaching reformation ser- VOL. IV. P mons; 210 M. H E N R Y. mons : It pleased God several years ago to stir up the heai'ts of many good people of several denominations, to endeavour the giving a check to that immorality and pro- faneness that had proceeded so far, and prevailed so long in England; against this encroaching enemy, London made the first stand, and their example encouraged many others both in England and Ireland too. We are yet to behold him in a more large and extensive sphere of usefulness, not to the neglect or prejudice of his own place and people, for he was so constant to them, that he has observed in his Diary, on June 3, 1711, being then at London, " That it was the first time he had been absent from Chester on the first day of the month, the Sa crament day, for this twenty-four years." But though his own flock were not neglected, yet he could not con fine his services to them ; he had a just care for all the churches; and especially those that were within his line ; I mean, such as he could visit and return home at the! week's end ; he took a circuit of near thirty miles, and frequently lent his assistance to the dissenting ministers and churches that were in that compass, and he was always thankfully received by them. Those that put together the various parts of Mr. Henry's labours, and consider that, besides what has been mentioned, he spent a great deal of time and pains in composing his Expositions and other writings for the press, will surely be desirous to know what method he took, and what means he used to main tain and keep up so much life and industry for so many years, and to go on so unweariedly in his Master's work. Among other things that contributed to this his uncom mon zeal and diligence, I shall mention a few, which all that know him could not but observe, and which the papers he has left behind him very amply testify ; I mean his great value for time, his prayerfulness, observation, and frequent renewings of his covenants with God ; by these means he was not only kept close to his work, but greatly encouraged and strengthened in it. In the year 1699, God called up the learned and every way excel lent Dr. Bates to the spirits of just men made perfect: Hackney had for many years been happy in his ministry. As we have observed in his life, the Doctor might have! had almost any preferment, could he have conformed to the established church. Upon his death, the first person that was thought fit to succeed him was Mr. Matthew Henry ; it was unanimously agreed that an invitation should be given him, and Mr, Shower was desired M. HENRY. 211 desired to prepare him for it by a letter, which he did* urging him with great affection and respect to hearken to it ; he returned his answer to Mr. Shower the very next post, in which he wholly declined it, and desired no fur ther solicitation might be made to him about it ; and iri his Diary he avers* that the stress of his refusal was truly laid upon his great affection for the people at Chester. The congregation at Hackney did not immediately desist from what their hearts were much set upon, but them selves sent up a letter of invitation in very pressing terms; which in a few days time Mr. Henry answered with great respect, but plainly and fully in the negative* which I think put an end to all further importunity on their part. The peremptory refusal that Mr. Henry had given to the congregration at Hackney, discouraged that of Salter's Hall from making any attempts of that nature, and Mr. Chorley of Norwich was chosen, but he declined it ; and there being still some disputes among them about the choice of another, it was proposed to them to give Mri Henry an invitation ; and accordingly letters were written to him by Mr. Howe, Mr. Williams, arid Dr. Hamilton, urging this among other arguments, That there being some contests, both sides would agree in him. But he still declined it. But upon the death of Mr. Billio in 1710', the congre gation at Hackney renewed their importunities so forci bly, that, thinking it a proper call, and wishing too for the advantage of superintending his great work then in the press, he at length complied, and removed from Chestef thither in May 1711. His Lord's Day's work he managed at Hackney in the same method as he had done? at Chester,; only, that instead of beginning with the 100th Psalm, hei began with a short prayer; for the rest the order was the same. Though his natural strength was abated and dis tempers growing upon him, yet he abated nothing of his wonted zeal and diligence, either on the Lord's Day or lecture days, in expounding* preaching, or catechizing ; he kept his usual hour of beginning public worship, and though it was earlier than the congregation at Hackney had been accustomed to come together, yet he was punc tual to the time, and they soon came to it, and that with out reluctancy, and were many of them well pleased with it ; and thus he did in the afternoon as well as in the morn ing. He made it plainly to appear he sought not his ease and pleasure in coming up to London ', here was a large field of service, and he had a large heart, and on that ac count 212 M. HENRY. count the place suited him very well ; Ire has more than once preached the Lord's Day morning lecture at Little St. Helens, and then returned to Hackney, and preached and expounded as usual both parts of the day there ; some times, after having preached morning and evening at Hack ney, he has gone to Mr. Lloyd's meeting-house in Wap- ping, to the charity-school at Shakespeare's Walk, and sometimes over the water to Redriff, and preached the evening lecture, and returned home, and gone through the several parts of family worship as usual. We come now to the close of this valuable life. In May 1714, he made a visit to his old friends in Cheshire, and towards the end of the next month, as he was upon his return to London, he was taken ill at Nantwich. His old intimate friend (says Mr. Tong) Mr. Illidge,was then with him, and ha*d been desired by the Honourable Sir Thomas Delves and his lady to invite him to Doddington, and he had fully intended to have waited on them, and their stew ard was there, with Mr. Midge, to have conducted him to a house that has been famed for impartial and disinterest ed religion, and I hope will be ever so, but he was not able to proceed any further ; he went to bed at Mr. Matter- shed's house, and said to his. friends, " Pray for me, for now I cannot pray for myself." When they were putting him to bed, he spoke of the excellency of spiritual com forts in a time of need, and blest God that he had those comforts : He had said to Mr. Midge, you have been used to take notice of the sayings of dying men ; this is mine, " That a life spent in the service of God and communion with him, is the most comfortable and pleasant life that any one can live in this world." He had but a restless night ; about five of the clock in the morning he was seiz ed with what the doctors agreed to be an apoplectic fit ; he lay speechless with his eyes fixed, and about eight of the clock on Tuesday morning, June 22, he breathed out his precious soul into the hands of Christ, in the 52d year of his age. The physicians could not impute his death to a fall he had some time before received, from which he had all along said he felt no ill consequence. Though Mr. Henry's constitution was very healthful and strong, yet there is a great deal of reason to believe he put too much trust in it, and that not only by his frequent and fer vent preaching, in which he used to sweat profusely, but chiefly by his sitting so long together in his study, and writing so much ; this stopped the due circulation of the blood and spirits, and caused an obesity of body and flush ing M. HENRY. 213 ing in his face ; but his study was more to him than the palaces of princes, and his work was his most pleasant recreation. His Works. , " LA small Discourse concerning the Nature of Schism, 1689. II. His Father's Life, 1696. III. A Discourse about Meekness and Quietness of Spirit, on 1 Pet. iii. 4. to which is added, A Sermon preached at Mr. Howe's Meeting-house in London, 1698. IV. A Scripture Catechism, 1702. V. Family Hymns, \ gathered most out of David's Psalms, and all out of the inspired writings, 1702. VI. A plain Catechism for Children. VII. A Sermon concerning the right Management of friendly visits; preached at Mr. Howe's meeting in London, 1704. VIII. A Church in the House, preached at Mr. Shower's meeting, and published at the request of the con gregation, 1704. IX. The Communicant's Companion : or, Instructions and Helps for the right receiving'of the Lord's Supper, 1704. X. Four Discourses against Vice and Immorality, viz. 1. Against Drunkenness. 2. Against Uncleanness. 3. Against Sabbath-breaking. 4. Against Pro fane Speaking, 1705. XI. Great Britain's present Hopes and Joys opened, in two sermons ; the former on the na tional thanksgiving day, December 31, 1,706, the latter the day following, being New-year's day, Psalm Ixy. 11. "XII. Two Funeral Sermons, one on Dr. Samuel Benyon, the other on the Rev. Mr. Francis Tallents, ministers of the gospel in Shrewsbury, with an account of their lives, 1709. XIII. A Method for Prayer, with Scrip ture Expressions proper to be used under each head, 1710. XIV. A Sermon concerning the Work and Suc cess of the Ministry, 1710. XV. Disputes Reviewed : a sermon preached at the evening lecture on the Lord's Day, from Mark ix. 33, 1710. XVI. Faith in Christ inferred from Faith in God : a sermon preached on the Tues day's lecture at Salter's Hall, from John xiv. 1, 1711. XVII. A Sermon concerning the Forgiveness of Sin as a Debt, on Matth. vi. 12, 1711. XVIII. Hope and Fear balanced, in a lecture at Salter's Hall, July 24, 1711. XIX. A Sermon preached at the Funeral of Mr. Samuel Lawrence, minister of the gospel at Nantwich in Cheshire, on Phil. ii. 27, 1712. XX. A Sermon preached at Salter's Hall, to the Societies for the Reformation of Man ners, June 30, 1712. XXI. A Sermon preached at Haberdasher's Hall, on the Occasion of the Death of the Reverend Mr. Richard Stretton, July 13, 1712. XXII. Directions for Daily Communion with God, in three Sermons, 214 SHOWER. Sermons : shewing how to begin, how to spend, and how to close every day with God, Sept. 8, 1712. XXIII. An Exhortation at the close of the Ordination of Mr. Samuel Clark at St. Alban's, Sept. 17, 1712. XXIV. Po pery a Spiritual Tyranny, shewed in a Sermon preached on Nov. 5, 1712. XXV. A Sermon preached at the Ordination of Mr. Atkinson, Jan. 27, 1713. XXVI. A Sermon preached on Occasion of the Funeral of the Reverend Mr. Daniel Burgess, Feb. 3, 1713. XXVII. Christ's Favour to little Children opened and improved, in a Sermon preached at the public baptizing of a child in London, on Mark x. 16- March 6, 1713. XXVIII. A Sermon concerning the Catechizing of Youth, preached to Mr! Harris's Catechumens, April 7, 1713. XXIX. Self-Consideration necessary to Self-Preservation ; or, The Folly of despising our own Souls and our own Ways, opened in two sermons to young people, June 14, 1713 XXX. Sober-mindedness pressed upon young People; preached at the catechistical lecture at Mr. Wilcox's meet ing-place, and printed at the desire of many of the Cate chumens, most of them being ministers' sons, Sept. 2, 1713. XXXI. A Memorial of the Fire of the Lord, in a sermon preached Sept. 2, 1713, on Numb. xi. 3, being the day of remembrance of the burning of London, at Mr. Reynolds' meeting-house. XXXII. The Pleasant ness of a religious life, opened, proved, and recom mended to the consideration of all, and particularly of young people, May 21, 1714. XXXIII. His Expositions of the Bible ; in which he has gone through the Old Testa ment in four large volumes folio, and through the Evange lists and the Acts of the Apostles in a fifth ; and was fully bent, if God had spared his life, to have finished the whole in another volume, but in that death has prevented him. XXXIV. An Account of the Life and Death of Lieutenant Midge, father to Mr. George Midge of Nant- wich, Mr. Henry's very particular friend." JOHN SHOWER. J. HIS valuable and gracious minister was born in the city of Exeter, and baptized on the 18th of May 1 657. His father was a man of great piety and liberality to the poor, thinking money so expended, to be laid out ; with SHOWER. 215 with surety beyond any other. In this he was of the same mind with a wealthy merchant, who, having lost by one shipwreck to the value of £ 1500, ordered his clerk to dis7 tribute £ 100 among poor ministers and people, adding, that ' if his fortune were going by £ 1500 at a lump, it was high time to make sure some part pf it, before it was gone.' This was in the last century : And there is a distinguished merchant, for the honour of the gospel, to be , found in the present, whos,e public and private benevolences prove, that he has the happy art of laying out his money to the best advantage, and that, by lending to the Lord, no diminution has occurred to his stock, and much less to the. peace of his mind. Mr. Shower's mother was also an ex cellent woman, and a great blessing to her family. He lost his father in 1661, who left a decent estate to his widow and four sons. Mr. Bradford of Exon was his schoolmaster there ; but, at fourteen, he was sent to Mr. Warren of Taunton,, who kept a private academy for qualifying young men for the ministry. After a considerable time, he and his mo ther removed to London, for the advantage of Mr. Morton's tuition/who was (it is said) a polite and profound scholar. Here he made great proficiency, insomuch that Dr. Manton, as well as his tutor, encouraged him, before he was quite twenty, to prepare himself as a candidate for the ministry. Mr. Timothy Rogers, his intimate friend and fellow-labourer, assured Mr. Tong, to whom we are chiefly indebted for this account, that his first sermon was preached in the year 1677, on Psalm cxix. 30. Having mentioned Mr. Rogers, I cannot help giving my readers a most remarkable providence, which occurred to his fa ther, who was minister at Croglia, in Cumberland, in the days of King Charles II. But as it is somewhat long, I will refer it to a note, that I may not interrupt my narration. * In * The late Mr. Thomas Bradbury dined one day at the house of Mrs. Tooly, an eminent Christian lady in London, who was famous in her day for 'the love she bore to Christ, and to all his servants and peo ple. Her house and table were open to them all, being another Lydia in that respect. Mr. Timothy Rogers, who wrote the hook on Reli gious Melancholy, and was himself many years under that distemper, dined there the same day with Mr. Bradbury; and, after dinner, he entertained Mrs. Tooly and him with some stories concerning his fa ther, who was one of the ejected ministers in the year 1662, and the sufferings he underwent on account of his nonconformity. Mr. Rogers particularly related one anecdote, that he had often heard his father, *" with 216 SHOWER. In the year 1678, when the kingdom was alarmed with the popish plot, it was thought necessary, in conjunction with Drs. Stillingfleet, TiUotson, Burnet, and many others of the established church, that the dissenting ministers should warn the nation against the Romish superstition. ' Mr. Shower was one of the ministers who supported that design. with a good deal of pleasure, tell to himself and others, concerning a deliverauce which he had from being sent to prison, after his mitti mus was written out for that purpose. He lived near the house of one Sir Richard Cradock, a justice of the peace, who was a most vio lent persecutor, and laid out himself to distress serious dissenters by all the means which the severe laws then in being put in his power, parr ticularly by enforcing the statute against conventicles. He bore a great hatred to Mr. Rogers, and wanted above all things to have him in his power; and a fair opportunity, as he thought, offered itself to him : He heard that Mr. Rogers was to preach at a place some miles distant ; and he hired two men to go as spies, who were to take the names of several hearers they knew, and to witness against Mr. Rogers and them. The thing succeeded to his wish : They brought the names of several persons who were hearers on that occasion ; and Sir Richard sent and warned such of them as he had a particular spite at, and Mr. Rogers, to appear before him. Accordingly, they all came, with trembling hearts, expecting the worst, for they knew the vio lence of the man. While they were in his great hall, expecting to be called upon, there came into the ball a little girl, a grandchild of Sir Richard's, about six or .seven years of age. She looked at Mr. Rogers, and was much taken with his venerable appearance; and he, being naturally fond of children, took her on his knee, and made a great deal of her, and she grew fond of "him. At last Sir Richard sent one of his servants tu inform the compapy, that one of the wit nesses was fallen sick, and could not be present that day, and there fore warned them to come on another day, which he then named to them. Accordingly they came; and the crime, as the justice called jt, was proved. He ordered their mittimus to be written, to send them all to jai). Mr. Rogers, before he came, expecting to see the little girl again, had brought sortie sweetmeats to give her : And he was not disappointed ; for she came running to him, and was fonder of him than she had been the day before. She was, it seems, a par ticular favourite of her grandfather's, and had got such an ascendency over him, that he could deny her nothing. She was withal a child of a violent spirit, and could bear no contradiction, as she was in dulged iu every thing. Once, it seems, when she was contradicted in something, she run a penknife into her arm, that had almost cost her either her life, or the loss of her arm. After which, Sir Richard would not suffer her to be contradicted in any thing. Whiie she-was sitting on Mr. Rogers' knee, and eating the sweetmeats which he gave her, she looked wishfully on him, and said, ' What are you here for, Sir ?' He answered, ' I believe your grandfather is going to send me and my friends, whom you see here, to jail.' — ' To jail !' says she, ' Why? what hive you done?' — * I did nothing but preach at such a place; and they did nothing but hear me.' — Says, she, ' My grandpapa sha'nt send you to jail.'—' Ay, but, my dear/ said he, ' I believe he is now making out our mittimus, to send us all there.' She ran immediately to the chamber where her grandfather was, and knocked with her hands and heels, till she got in ; and said, ' What are SHOWER. 217 design. He afterwards assisted the famous and witty Mr. Alsop, author of Anti-Sozzo: And, in the year 1683, he accompanied Sir Samuel Barnardiston, at the desire of his uncle, in his travels to the Continent. With him and others, he had the pleasure of seeing Geneva, several parts of France and Italy, and of passing home wards are you going to do with my good old gentleman in the hall ? — ' Thai's nothing to yon,' said her grandfather; ' get you about your business.' — ' But I won't,' said she; ' he tells me, that you are going to send him and his friends to jail; and if you send them, I'll drown myself in the pond as soon as they are gone. — I will, indeed.' When he saw the girl was resolute and peremptory, it shook him, and over came the wicked design he had formed to persecute these innocent men. He stepped into the hall, with the mittimus in his hand, and said, ' I had here made out your mittimus, to seud you all to prison, as you deserve ; but, at my grandchild's request, I let fall the pro secution, and set you all at liberty.' They all bowed, and thanked him. After which, Mr. Rogers stepped up to the child, and laid his hand upon her head; and, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he said, ' God bless you, my dear child: May the blessing of that God, whose cause you now did plead, though as yet you know him not, be upon you in life, at death, and throughout eternity.' — And then he and his friends went away. Mrs. Tooly listened, with uncommon attention, to the story; and, looking on Mr. Rdgers, said, • And are you that Mr. Rogers's son?' — 'Yes, Madam,' answered he, ' I am.' — 'Well,' said she, ' as long as I have beejj acquainted with you, I never knew that befoVe. And now I will tell you something which you ne#ver knew before : I am the very person your dear father blessed in the manner you now related: It made such an impression on me, as I could never forget.' Upon this double discovery, M(s. Tooly and Mr. Rogers found they had a superadded tie of Christian regard to each other, beyond what they had before. And then he and Mr. Bradbury were desir ous to know how she, who had been bred up with an aversion to real religion, was now so eminent for it? She complied with their request, and very freely told them her story. She said, that, after her grandfather's death, she was left sole heiress of his great estate: And, being in the bloom of youth, and having none to controul her, she ran after all the fashionable diversions of the time in which she lived, without any manner of restraint. But, at the same time, she confessed, that at the end of them all, she found a "dissatisfaction both with herself and them, that always struck a damp to her heart, which she did not know how to get' rid of, but by running the same fruitless round over and over again ; but all in vain : She contract ed some slight illness, upon which she thought she would go to Rath, as hearing that that was a place for pleasure as well as health. When she came thither, she was led in providence to consult an apothecary, who was a religious man. He inquired, what ailed her? « Why,' says she, ' Doctor, I don't ail much as to my body; but I have an uneasy mind, which I can't get rid of.'—' Truly,' said he, ' Miss, I was so too, till I met with a book that cured me of it.' — ' Books!' said she; 'I get all the bo'ok9 I can lay my hands on: All the plays, novels, and romances 1 can hear of; But, after I have read them, my uneasiness is the same.' — ' That may be,' said he : 'I don't wonder at it. But this book I speak of, } can say of it what 1 can say of no other I ever read: I never tire Qf 218 SHOWER. wards by the way Of Germany and Holland. Mr. TongV account of this peregrination is equally pious and enter taining; and it shews how differently men travel with the fear of God before their eyes, from those who go put without principles, and return only with bad prac tices. of reading it, but can begin to read it again, as if I had never seen it before. A-nd I always find something new in it' — ' Pray,' says she, • Doctor, what book is that?' — 'Nay, Miss,' answered he, 'that is a secret I don't tell to every one.'— -' But could not 1 get a sight of that book V says she. — 'Yes, Miss, if you speak me fair, I can help you to it.' — ' Pray get it me then, Doctor, and I'll give you any thing you please.' He answered, ' If you will promise one thing, I will bring it you; and that is, that you will read it over carefully: And, if you should not see much ia it at first, that yon will give it a second reading.' She promised faithfully she would: And, after rais ing her curiosity by coming twice or thrice without bringing it, he at last brought it, took it out of his pocket, and gave it her. It was a New Testament. When she looked on it, she said, ' Poh, I could get that at any time.' — ' Why, Miss, so you might,' replied the Doc tor;' but remember, I have your solemn promise, that you will read it carefully.' — ' Well,' says she, ' though I never read it before, I will give it a reading.' Accordingly she began to read it, and it soon attracted her attention. She saw something in it she had a deep concern in ; and if she was uneasy in her mind before, she was ten times more so now. She did not know what to do with herself. So she got away back to London, to see what the diversions there would do again. But all was in vain. Electing love had decreed to save her, and effectual grace was determined to have her. She lodged at the court end of the town; and had a gentlewoman with her, by way of a companion. One Saturday night, she dreamed that she was in a place of worship, and heard a sermon which she could re member nothing of, when she awaked, excepting the text; but the dream made such an impression on her mind, that the idea she had of the place and the minister's face was as strong as if she had been acquainted with both for a number of years. She told her dream to her companion on the Lord's Day morning ; and, after breakfast, said, she was resolved to go in quest of it, if she should go from one end of London to the other. Accordingly they set out, and went into this and the other church, as they passed along; but none of them answered what she saw in her dream. About one o'clock they found themselves in the heart of the city; and they went into an eating-house, aud had a bit of dinner, and set out again in search of this unknown place. About half an hour after two, they were in (he Poultry, and they saw a great many people going down the Old Jewry; and she determined she would see where they were going. She mixed herself among them, and they carried her to the Old Jewry. So soon as she entered the door of it, and looked about? she turned to her companion, and said, with spme surprise, ' This is the very place I saw in my dream.' She had not stood long, till Mr. Shower, who was then minister of the place, went np into the pulpit; and, so soon as she looked on him, with greater surprise stilt she said, ' This is the very man I saw in my dream ;' and, if every part of it hold true, be will take that for his text, Psalm cxvi. 7. Return unto thy rest, 0 my soul ; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.' When he began to pray, she was all attention, and ©very sen tence SHOWER. 219 tices.* But, for this we must refer the inquisitive reader to Mr, Tong's large detail. At his return, after almost two years' absence, he greatly advanced in his usefulness and reputation. But, as this was in the midst of a warm persecution of the dissenting ministers, it was not safe for men of his principles, however peaceable, (witness the case of Mr. Howe, one of the most quiet and mildest of men) to remain in the kingdom. Accord ingly he, as well as Mr. Howe and several others, retired to Holland, where he continued till two years after the revolution, preaching the gospel at Rotterdam. In this . interval, he married the niece of the famous Mr. Papillon, whose case made so much noise a little before, for assert ing the privileges of the citizens of London. By her he had three children, though she did not survive the birth of the last. The inducement of his return was to be co-pastor with Mr. Howe ; but, being invited by another congregation some time afterwards, he thought his usefulness might inr crease by accepting their call, which he did in May 1691, and preached in Currier's Hall, their meeting-place, on the next Lord's Day. An increase of hearers soon made a removal to a larger room necessary, which they found in Jewin Street, where they continued several years. In 1692, he married the daughter of Mr. White, an eminent citizen, with whom he was very happy for nine years, and by whom he had several children. In the year 1701, his congregation removed themselves to a more commo dious meeting in the Old Jewry, where he was assisted by Mr. Timothy Rogers above-mentioned. In 1706, he was attacked by a malignant fever, from which he did not re cover without evident shocks to his constitution. On his recovery, he preached a mpst affecting sermon to his people on tence went to her heart. ' Having finished prayer, he took that for his text; and there God met with her soul in a saving ttay and man ner : And she at last obtained, what she so long sought for in vain elsewhere, rest to her soul in Him who is the life and happiness of then) that believe. * The excellent Herbert hath expressed his opinion upon this subject with his usual piety : ' Travels abroad both dear and dangerous are, Whilst oft the soul pays for the body's fare : Travels at home are cheap and safe. Salvation Comes mounted on the wings of meditation. He that doth live at home, and learns to know Gop and himself, needeth not farther go.' ' ?yna5' P' 6*. 220 S H O W E R. on Psalm cxvi*. 8, 9. About September 1713, he was seized with a paralytic fit at a friend's house at Epping, from which he never fully recovered. However, at times he was able to go on with his work, and to make little excursions occasionally to Stoke-Newington, where he enjoyed the society of Sir John Hartop and Mr. Gould, the intimate friends of Dr. Watts, and most likely of Dr. Watts himself. On the 24th of March 1715, he preached his last sermon from Psalm Ixxix. 1. But, from that time, languishing and disease Overwhelmed his feeble body, till the 28th of June following, when he found what he desired, death without terror, and the goodness of the Lord in dying. He was deposited at Highgate, on the 7t!i of July. His natural temper was peculiarly tender and affectionate, which was certainly not diminished by grace. He could say, both as a minister and a friend, Who is weak, and I am not weak; who is offended, and I burn not? This tenderness of spirit shewed itself not only in his pri vate discourse with his friends, but in his public minis trations. The lively affections of his soul would often discover themselves in many tears, both while he was pleading with God in prayer, and with men in preach ing: And, as flame increases flame, he had a natural, not an artificial, way of moving the hearts of the people. In a word, he was both a burning and a shining light be low; and, doubtless, is now removed to shine, as the stars of the fir moment, for ever and ever. His Works. " I. Serious Reflections on Time and Mternity, and some other subjects, moral and divine: With an Appendix concerning the first day of the year, how observed by the Jews, and may best be employed by a serious Christian, 12mo. II. Resignation to the Divine Good Pleasure in every Condition, recommended as our Duty and Happiness : In a sermon from 2 Sam. xv. 26. 4to. 1681. III. The present Correction and Reproof of Sin. A discourse on Jerem. ii. 19. 4to. 1685. IV. Of St. Peter's Sin and true Repentance : A sermon preached at Rotterdam, Dec. 3, 1687, 4to. V. An Exhortation to Repentance and Union among Protestants : Or, A Dis course upon the Burthen of Dumah, from Isa. xxi. 11, 19. 4to. 1688. VI. Practical Reflections on the late Earthquakes in Jamaica, England, Sicily, Malta, &c. with a particular Historical Account of those and divers other Earthquakes, 12mo. 1693. VII. The Day of Grace : Or, A Discourse concerning the Possibility and Fear of its being past before Death : Shewing the ground less A L L I X. 221 less doubts and mistaken apprehensions of some, as to their being finally forsaken and left of God ; with the dan gerous symptoms and approaches of others to such a sad state : In four sermons from Psalm Ixxxi. 11, 12. 12mo. 1694. VIII. A Discourse of tempting Christ, 12mo. 1694. IX. Family Religion, in three letters to a friend, 12mo. 1694. X. No Peace to the Wicked: A sermon preached on the fast day, May 23, 1694- 4to. XI. Some Account of the holy Life and Death of Mr. Henry Gear ing, who died Jan. 4, 1693-4, aged 61. 12mo. 1694. XII. A Thanksgiving Sermon, April 16, 1696. 4to. XIII. A Sermon preached to the Societies for Reformation of Manners in the cities of London and Westminster, Nov. 15, 1697, 4to. XIV. Of Long Life and Old Age: A funeral sermon on the death of Mrs. Jane Papillon, July 1698, 4to. XV. The -Mourner's Companion: Or, Fu neral Discourses on several Texts. In two parts. 12mo. 1699. XVI. God's Thoughts and Ways above ours, especiallv in the Forgiveness of Sin : In several Sermons upon Isa. Iv. 7, 8, 9. 8vo. 1699. XVII. Heaven and Hell: Or the Unchangeable State of Happiness or Misery for all Mankind in another World, 8vo. 1700. XVIII. Sacramental Discourses. In two parts. With a para phrase on the Lord's Prayer, 8vo. 1702. XIX. A Fu neral Sermon : Occasioned by the sudden death of the Re verend Mr. Nathaniel Taylor, late minister of the gospel in London, 4to. 1702. XX. An Exhortation to Ministers and People, at Mr. Thomas Bradbury's Ordination, 8vo. 1707. XXI. Winter Meditations : A sermon on frost and snow, and winds, and the wonders of God therein, 8vo. 1709. XXII. Divine Support under Disquieting Thoughts: A Sermon from Psalm xciv. 19, lSmo. 1711. XXIII. Enoch's Translation : A funeral sermon upon the sudden death of Dr. Nehemiah Grew, fellow of the college of physicians, who died March 25, 1712. Preach ed in the Old Jewry, 8vo. 1712. PETER ALLIX, D. D. We should not think it right to pretermit some me moir of this learned and valuable Man, the labours of whose life were devoted, with equal success and abili ty, to the service of the protestant religion against po pery, 222 A L L I X. pery, and to the cause of Christianity itself* against several sorts of heretics, who have endeavoured to sap its founda tions. He was born in the year 1641, at Alencon in France, and, after a very liberal education, became minis ter of the reformed church at Rouen ; where, before he was thirty-five, he distinguished himself by several learned works in support of the protestant religion. These raised his character, and occasioned his appointment to the church at Charenton, then the principal church of the French Re formed, about a league from Paris. In this situation, he applied himself to repel the artful attacks of the Bishop of Meaux, who was then labouring to overturn the protestant religion, by seeming concessions to its professors. His sermons upon this occasion were afterwards printed in Holland, and met with deserved commendations from Mr. Bayle, and from every body else capable of judging in such matters. Upon the fatal and perfidious revocation of the edict of Nantes, Mr. Allix, with multitudes of his profession, fled from the tyranny and superstition of their native land ; many of whom, with himself, found a welcome asylum in the British dominions. His capacity, zeal, and learn ing, procured our Author a most deserved as well as dis* tinguished reception. He immediately applied himself to the gaining our language, which he attained to a sur prising perfection. The degree of doctor in divinity was an honour immediately conferred ; and, in some time after,1 the treasurership of the church of Salisbury followed it for his support. As no man was ever better qualified, it was thought of to engage him in writing an authentic history of the councils ; but the design unhappily dropped, for want of encouragement. I have frequently thought, if some fund was established by our universities, or if sbme public-spirited persons (as for other purposes) would be queath a competent sum, for the re-publication of the best editions of learned works, or for the engagement of able men in the publication of literary Desiderata, which they might fear to venture upon at their own expence, espe cially since the injury which learning has received by the demolition of copy right, it would be a most beneficial and honourable circumstance to the literature of our na tion, if not of the world. Our Author, however, could not be idle, but wrote several equally learned and enter taining pieces in the cause of protestantism, which esta blished his credit here, as high as ever it had been in his own country. In the year 1699, he wrote a very learned and ALLIX. 223 and admirable book in defence of the Trinity, which had considerable effects upon the public. Mornay, Witsius, and others, had walked over much of the same ground ; but Alix's principal view was to defeat a new paradox of the Unitarians, in their answer to Bishop Bull. They con tended, that all the Jewish authors which mention that doctrine, lived after Justin Martyn, that is, since the year 140, or at least after the publication of the gospel ; that even the books of these Jewish authors are pious frauds, as well as those of Philo the Jew, and the Book of Wisdom ; that the Jews, prior to that period, could not speak of the Tri nity or the divinity of Christ, because they knew nothing of those things ; and that, at most, whatever is to be found, either in the Scriptures or among the Jews, agreeable to those doctrines, probably proceeded from the Platonists, and were adopted in order to render the religion of Jesus acceptable to the Pagans. Against these preposterous as sertions, founded both in ignorance of the language of the Bible, and of ecclesiastical antiquity, Dr: Allix set him self, and has proved, that the ancient Jewish church, with respect to the Trinity and divinity of the Messiah, had the very same ideas at the bottom, though less clear and explicit, which the Christian church hath at this day. This was a great work ; and he has executed it with the greatest erudition and fidelity. While we are upon this subject, we might also mention, that another work of this kind has since been published, to shew that the doctrine of a Trinity not only obtained (as well it might, according to the Scriptures) among the ancient Jews, but also in all parts of the world, where any fragments of remote opi nions, or even the origins of nations, have been pre served. This is done, but rather succinctly, in the in troduction Of a book, entitled " Horee Solitariee, or Es says upon the Divinity of Christ," which we have had oc casion to refer to in a former volume. See Vol. I. p. 1203. Dr. Allix, after these elaborate performances, still continued to oblige the Christian world by his writings for many years. These have been attacked, as such works always will be, by a variety of adversaries to the truth of the gospel. Among the rest, the doctor had a conversa tion with Mr. Whiston, which being of some curiosity and importance* shall be subjoined in a note. * He * The little Treatise of our Author, from which this conversa; tion is taken, and is now beeome extremely scarce, bears the fol lowing 224 ALLIX. * He enjoyed a very uncommon share of health and spi rits, as appears by his latest writings, in which there is not lowing title : " Remarks upon some places of Mr. Whiston's books,- either printed or in manuscript. By P. Allix, D. D. London, 1711, 8vo." The account he gives us of his conversation with Mr. Whiston is" very particular, and very worthy of the reader's notice; and there fore, as well as in regard to the scarceness of this tract, which is but a pamphlet, I will give the whole passage in the author's own words, es teeming it a very entertaining part of his personal history. " The late Dr. Payne, as Mr. Whiston saith, (for I think they both joined in the question) having asked me, whether the Holy Spirit was addressed to in the public prayers of the primitive church ?' I answered, ' That if they had ever read the works of St. Basil the Great, they would have found a i satisfactory answer to their question; for that he had mitten a large discourse on that very subject, in which he not only supposes that all their public prayers were directed to the Father by the interces sion of the Son in the Holy Spirit, but proves likewise, that the Deity pf the Spirit was generally supposed by the church, in that form, though it was not formally directed to him alone.' 1 advised him to read that piece of St. Basil, who had a natural occasion of examining this matter, by, the complaint which was made against him, that in the doxology he used indifferently these words : Glory be lo the Father, with the Son, and in, or with the Holy Ghost. And indeed, St. Basil, writing near fifty years after the rise of Arianism, (which gave the hint to Ma- ecdonius, Bishop of Constantinople, to deny the divinity of the Holy Ghost, and to do all he could to support his heresy) had solidly defended the sense of the primitive church, in all times and places, concerning the Deity of the Holy Spirit, and confuted all the arguments of the Macedonians. This is the substance of that conversation ; and, I am sure, the divines and ministers who were there, and then present, lit tle thought I had therein given any occasion for such a charge as Mr. Whiston has now, at the distance of twelve or thirteen years, publicly brought against me. He has given me, indeed, the title of the very learned doctor, &c. But, as he doubtless has his reasons for what he does, I suppose he might design at the same time, that it should serve for the justification of himself. Timeo Danaos et Dono ferentes: Some months ago, one of Mr. Whiston's friends told me he bad heard from Mr. Whiston, such an account of that conversation as he has since printed. I then told the gentleman the whole truth of the matter, and what then passed betweeu us : Beit I thought it of so little im portance, that though Mr. Whiston came afterwards to visit me, in com pany with some friends of his, I did not think it necessary to take any notice of it, after the explanation I had given his friends, and which in all probability came to his ears; especially, since I could not have done it- without blaming him for his incivility, in making his own use of what I had said, by changing the state of the question, and supJ pressing a part of my answer : An incivility so mrich the greater, be cause I had referred them to St. Basil's hook, De Spirilu Sancto, for an account of my sentiments about the question they proposed. I have bad several opportunities of conversing with Mr. Whiston, and I am satis fied he never looked upon me, as one who inclined in the least to his opinions. I thought him a studious man, and had a respect for him as such ; and he will do me the justice to acknowledge, that I always spoke my mind to him very freely and sincerely ; but that I never ap proved of the liberties he took, which indeed were more than could be well borne with." ALLIX, 225 not only all the erudition, but all the quickhess and viva city that appeared in his earliest pieces: Those who knew* him found the same pleasure in his conversation, that the learned will always find in his productions ; for, with a prodigious share of learnings he had a wonderful liveliness of temper, and expressed himself on the driest subjects with so much sprightliness, and in a manner so out of the common road, that it was impossible to flag or lose one's attention to what was the subject of his discourse. He was consulted by the greatest men of his age, on the deepest and most intricate parts of learnings and was ac knowledged for a genius of thefirst order by those whom the world have esteemed, not only the most capable but the most unbiassed critics. It was not any single branch of literature, or a few related to each other, that could oc cupy his thoughts, but the whole circle of sciences which fall under the cognizance of a general scholar, and sound divine. All these he had not only tasted but digested, as appears by his excellence in different, arid almost opposite studies. His sermons shew him to have been an admirable orator, and at the same time a profound scholar; The several ancient authors he published testify his skill in cri ticism, and his perfect acquaintance with antiquity. .His treatises on ecclesiastical history discover a prodigious fund of reading, an exact comprehension of his subject, and his sincere zeal for the protestant religion. He la boured also to serve it by the tracts he rescued from dust and oblivion, to shew (as they effectually did) that the charge of novelty, on which the papists insisted so loudly.) was not barely unreasonable,, but at the same time groundless. His thorough acquaintance with Hebrew and Rab binical learning, with whatever depends thereupon in Greek and other languages, was displayed in his laborious performance in defence of the doctrine of the Trinity, in which his sincerity is as conspicuous as his learning. If in the prosecution of some deep and recondite studies/ he sometimes mistook his vvay, and erred a little in his chro nological computations* it was no more than had befallen the greatest men who had travelled this road before him, particularly Joseph Mede^ and Bishop Lloyd; neither have these examples convinced other ornaments of the common wealth of letters, that the roads are impassable, since the very learned Dean Prideaux, and the indefatigable Sir Isaac Newton, have devoted many of their hours to like in quiries. Our Author contihued his application to the last, and having spun out the thread to an extraordinary VOL. IV. Q extent, 226 ALLIX. extent, died at London, February 21, 1717, in the seven- ty-isixth year of his age, leaving behind him the reputa tion of a man equally assiduous in the right discharge of all the offices pf public and private life, and every way as amiable for his virtues and social qualities, as venerable from his uprightness and integrity, and famous for his various and profound learning. His Works. " I. Response a la Dissertation sur Bertram 1 et Jean Scot, ou Erigene qui est a, la fin du premier Teme de la Perpetuite de M. Arnaud : i. e. An Answer to a Dissertation on Bertram and John Scot, which is at the end of the Perpetuity of the Faith, by Mr. Arnaud. II. Ratramne, ou Bertrand, Prtitre, du Corps et du Sang du Seigneur, en Latin et en Francois. Rouen, 1672. 12iuo. i. e. Ratramn, or Bertrand the Priest, on the Body and Blood of our Lord, in Latin and French. III. Dissertatio de Trisagii origine. Autore P. A. V. D. M. (Petro Allix Verbi Dei Ministro) Rothomagi, 1674, 8vo. i. e. A Disser tation on the first Rise of the Trisagium or Doxology; by Peter Allix, &c. IV. Dissertatio de Sanguine D. N. J. C. ad Epistolam S. Augustini qua num adhuc existat inquiritur, 8Vo. i. e. A Dissertation on the Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, &c. V. Dissertatio de Tertulliani vita et scriptis, 8vo. i. e. A Dissertation on the life and writ ings of Tertullian. VI. Dissertatio de Conciliorum quo- rumvis definitionibus ad examen revocandis, 8vo. VII. A- nastasii Sinaitae anagogicarum eontemplationum in Hexa- hemeron, liber xii. hactenus desideratus, Greece et Latine, ex versione et cum notis Andrece Dacerii. Praemissa ex- postulatio de S. Joannis Chrysostomi Epistola ad Csesa- rium a, Parisiensibus Theologis nuper suppressa. Londini, i'682, 4to. i. e. Anastasius his twelfth book of contempla tions on the six days' work of the creation, which has been hitherto so much desired, in Greek and Latin, from the version, and with the-notes of Andrew Dacer. To which is prefixed, an Expostulatory Preface, in relation to an epistle of St. John Chrysostom to Caesarius, lately suppres sed by some Parisian divines. VIII. Douze Sermons de P. A. Ministre du S. Evangile sur divers Textes. A Rot- ~ terdam chez Reinier Leers, 1685, 12mo. i. e. Twelve Sermons by Peter Allix, Minister of the Holy Gospel, up on several Texts. IX. Les Maximes du vrai Chretien, i. e. The Maxims of a good Christian. This was joined to another Treatise, entitled, Bonnes et saintes pensees pour touts les jours du mois. Amsterdam, 1687. i. e. Good and holy thoughts, for all the days in the month. X. L' Adieu de ALLIX. 227 de Sainte Paul aux Ephesiens, Sermon sur les Versets 26, 27, 28, du xx Chapitre des Actes. Amsterdam, 1688, 12mo. i. e. St. Paul's Farewell to theEphesians: a Sermon Upon Acts xx. 26, 27, 28. XI. Reflections upon the Books of the Holy Scripture, to establish the Truth of the Chris tian Religion. In two volumes. London, 1688. XII. Determinatio F. Joannis Parisiensis de modo existendi Corporis Christi in Sacramento Altaris, alio quam sit ille quem tenet Eeclesia. Nunc primum edita ex M. S. Cod. S. Victoris Parisiensis; cui praefixa est Prpefatio His- torica de Dogmate Transubstantiationis. Londini, 1662. 8vo. i. e. The Determination of Brother John Paris, Jacobin, as to the Mode of our Lord's Body, existing in the Sacrament of the Altar ; different from that held by the Church. Now first printed from a MS. at St. Victor's in Paris ; to which is prefixed, an historical Preface, as to the Doctrine of Transubstantiation. XIII. Some Remarks upon the Ecclesiastical History of the ancient Churches of Piedmont, by P. Allix, D. D. London, 1690. 4to. XIV. Remarks upon the Ecclesiastical History of the ancient Churches of the Albigenses ; by Peter Allix, D. D. treasurer of the church of Sarum. Lond. 1692. 4to; XV. The Judgment of the ancient Jewish Church against the Unitarians in the Controversy upon the Holy Trinity, and the Divinity of our blessed Saviour : With a Table of Matters and a Table of Texts of Scripture occasionally explained: By a Divine of the church of England. London, 1689. 8vo. XVI. De Messiae duplici, adventu Dissertationes duae adversus Judaeos. Londini, 1701. 12mo. i. e. Of the two Advents of the Messiah, in as many Dissertations against the Jews. XVII. Preface and Arguments on the Psalms, XVIII. Nectarii Patriarchae Hierosolymitani Confutatio Imperii Papae in Ecclesiam. Londini, 1702. 8vo.i'. e. Nectarius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, his Confutation of the Pope's Authority in the Church; XIX. Augusti Hermanni Francke Manuductio ad Lectio- nem Scripturae Sacrse, edita studio P; Allix. Londini, 1706. 8vo. i. e. Augustus Herman Francke's Introduction to the reading of the Holy Scriptures, published by Dr. Allix. XX. Dissertatio de Jesu Christi Domini nostri Anno et Mense Natali. Londini, 1707 et 1710. 8vo. i. e. A Dis sertation on the Year and Month of the Nativity of oUr Lord Jesus Christ XXI. The Prophecies which Mn Whiston applies to the Times immediately following the Appearance of the Messiah, considered and examined. London, 1707. 8vo, XXIL Preparations a la Cene, 8vo. i. e. 228 T A Y L 0 R. i. e. Preparations for the Lord's Supper, Other pieces are also said to have been written by him, viz. XXIII. Theses Theologicae de ultimo Judicio. Salmur. 4to. 1660. XXIV. A Discourse concerning Penanee. London, 8vo. 1688. XXV. An Historical Discourse concerning the Necessity of the Minister's Intention in administering the Sacrament, 8vo. 1688. XXVI. An Examination of the Scruples of those who refuse to take the Oaths, 4to. 1689. XXVII. Animadversions on Mr. Hill's Vindication of the Primitive Fathers against the right reverend Gilbert, Bi shop of Sarum : In a Letter to a Person of Quality, 4to. 1695. XXVIII. Remarks upon some Places of Mr. Whiston's Books, either printed or in MS. By P. Allix, D. D. Lond. 1711. 8vo." This piece is very scarce. RICHARD TAYLOR. , K.ICHARD TAYLOR was a man of abilities and erudition ; evangelical in doctrine ; and in conversation, faithfulness, and assiduity in his work, eminent and ex emplary. He had his education in the University of St. Andrew's in Scotland, where he commenced bachelor of arts in the year 1674, and master of arts the year follow ing. But being duly sensible of the importance of that service in the church of Gorjy to which he had devoted himself, he did not immediately engage in preaching, but continued his studies for upwards of two years ; so that having his mind stored with a larger furniture of divine knowledge, his future capacity for usefulness might be the greater. And such was his modesty^ that when he entered upon the work of the ministry, he did it first pri vately; and being encouraged, from the proof he had thereby given of his ability, he afterwards appeared more publicly, in 1677. About which time, he joined himself in fellowship with the dissenting congregation at Stepney; and in April 1678, he went to Osterley, in the quality of chaplain to Sir William Thomson ; after which he removed^ in September 1681, into the family of the Countess of Scarsdale. His abilities by this time were so well known,, that in March 1679, he received an invitation from the congre gational church at Amsterdam} to be their pastor ; which, for TAYLOR. 229 for weighty reasons at that time, he thought fit to de cline. But having afterwards, in July 1686,v received the like invitation from the congregation in London, of which - the Reverend Mr. Brooks had been pastor, he accepted of it. In the discharge of which duty he spent the remainder of his days ; and with what care, watchfulness, diligence, and zeal for the spiritual welfare of his- flock, was far better understood by them than can be expressed bv others. He was a valiant champion for the faith which was once delivered to the saints; a zealous asserter of free and effi cacious grace in conversion, and of the righteousness of Christ alone for our justification, and all the other points of Christian doctrine which stand connected with them. His preaching and practice were harmonious; he never pulled down with the one hand what he built up with the other, and his whole conversation and conduct were with out guile and temporizing. And as he lived in the faith he had preached, so he died in it, and desired his friends might know what on his death-bed he declared ; which! was, as I have it delivered to me, (says Mr. Nesbitt in his funeral sermon) in these words : "lam exceedingly well satisfied in the defence I have been enabled to make of the truths of the gospel in my time, and now am full of the comforts of them ; and if it were possible for me to live a thousand years longer than I have done, I would continue to preach those truths, and be more earnest in the defence of them." As the end of his living was Christ, so Christ was to him life in death. His sun did not set in a cloud, his evening was clear and serene, no dark ness in his mind, no thorns in his conscience ; nor was his patience disturbed, but had its perfect work ; for he bore all his sharp and tedious pain with a meek and quiet spirit. After his people had been blessed with his labours for more than thirty years, he died in the month of Sep tember 1717. The following was drawn up by the edi tor of a posthumous volume on " The Fall ;" who says, ' The Author made it the chief business of his preach ing, whilst he lived, to plead for the sovereign freeness of God's grace, for the perfection of the satisfaction Christ made to the justice of God, and for the necessity of trusting to his imputed righteousness, in order to justi fication. He at the same time was very careful to press to the following of holiness, without which it is impossible to see or enjoy God. And as he was a person of most eminent piety, and of the most blameless circumspect con versation, he was a credit to the doctrines of grace, which he 230 , CLARKE. he preached ; and he never could be charged with acting ;n such a way as might bring dishonour on the glorious gospel of God, his Saviour. His Works. " I. The History of the Union between the Presbyterian and Congregational Dissenting Minis ters in and about London ; with an Account of the Breach of it, 4to. 1698. II. Two Discourses preached at Pin ner's Hall; ,1. On Christ, as he is a sure refuge and a rock of salvation. 2. On the Way to have Peace with God, 8vo. 1701. III. The Establishment of the Law by the Gospel asserted and vindicated: To which is added, A Seasonable Caution against Presumption in a Time of Prosperity, 8vo. 1704. IV. Discourses on several Sub jects: In two volumes, 8vo. 1719." MATTHEW CLARKE. J. HIS eminent Minister among the Dissenters was born on the 2d of February 1664, at a solitary house in Lei cester Forest, where his father, who was one of the mi nisters ejected by the Uniformity Act, had retired from the violence of the times. As Mr. Clarke's father was a man of learning, he took particular care of his son's edu cation, and grounded him in the Latin, Greek, and even some of the oriental languages, to which were added the Italian and French: He spoke the last with uncommon perfection. Qualified by outward, and especially by graci ous advantages for the ministry, he began his service in the year 1684, which was no very favourable season for the dis senters. In about three years he was called to Sandwich in Kent, where he exercised his talents with great satisfac tion for two years; but, in 1689, he returned to London, and was settled as assistant to Mr. Ford, in the meeting at Miles Lane. In 1694, upon the death of Mr. Ford, Mr. Clarke succeeded to the charge of that congregation, where he was blessed with many seals to his ministry. In 1096 he married Mrs. Anne Frith of Windsor, and by her had a son and a daughter, whom he brought up with great care. About this time unhappy disputes were raised among, the dissenting congregations, respecting ' the imputation of Christ's righteousness, the gospel being a new law, and a change of persons between Christ and his Elect/ which created sad divisions among them, and also among the lecturers CLARKE. 231 lecturers at Pinner's Hall. Mr. Clarke was chosen tp, succeed upon a vacancy to these lectures in the year 1697, which he continued to his death. In private life he was truly exemplary, and, in his public duty, was guilty of that, rare fault of being top laborious. He has preached three times on the Lord's Day, and several times in the week besides ; by the con tinuance of which labours, he overheated his blood, and lost, by degrees, his natural rest and appetite : Insomuch that, in the year 1707, he was so dangerously ill of a fever, that he was given over by friends and physicians, and fi nally recommended in prayer by Dr. Watts, who assisted his devotions, as a man leaving the world, lo the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal, life. But when he was thus past all expectation of life below, he was wonderfully recovered by a medicine, which was given as a last effort for his relief. This disorder, however, extremely weak ened his constitution. In November 1715, he had the misfortune to break his leg, which, coming upon a habit worn down with incessant labours, quite reduced his former spirits and vivacity. He was more than once chosen to appear at the head of the dissenters., in offering congratu latory addresses to the throne, upon remarkable occasions, and particularly upon the discovery of the pretender's plot in 1722. But nothing more disturbed his mind, or con tributed more to the impairing his health, than the un happy divisions among his brethren assembling at Salter's Hall, respecting the heterodox opinions which were pro pagating in the west of England among tbe dissenters, and particularly upon the Article of the Trinity. These opinions have been increasing among them, with addi tional corruption to this day, and have produced number less confusions and divisions. The Arian lie produced the curse of an exterminated; gospel in Asia, where it pre vailed: And may its republication and reception never extinguish the light of God's truth and countenance in Great Britain ! — Mr. Clarke mourned over these miserable controversies and divisions both in public and private, and -prayed earnestly and constantly that God would give a better spirit to the contending parties. But, finding that he could do but little service, [for how can the gentle voice of truth be heard in the clamours of passion!] he withdrew very much from public conversation, and resolved to spend the short remainder of his days in silence and solitude. In the very beginning of the year 1726i, he was seized with a complication of disorders, which, on the 27th of March following, 232 CLARK E. foljowing, being the Lord's Day, brought him to the end of his pilgrimage, after a journey of sixty-two years, se ven weeks, and two days, He departed in great devo tion and tomplacency, without any doubts of his interest in the Prince of salvation. A large Memoir of his life and character has been written by the Rev. D. Neal, M. A. and prefixed to a volume of sermons composed by our Author : And the late Dr. Watts wrote also a very elegant Latin epitaph to his memory, which was engrav ed upon his tomb-stone in Bunhill Fields, and which the Doctor afterwards translated into English. „ Translation of Mr. Matthew Clarke's Epitaph. Sacred to MemoHY. In this Sepulchre lies buried MATTHEW CLARKE, A Son bearing the Name of his venerable Father, nor less venerable Himself: Trained up from his youngest years in sacred and human Learning ; Very skilful in the Languages : In the Gift of Preaching '-. excellent, laborious, and successful : ; In the Pastoral Office faithful and vigilant : Among the Controversies of Divines moderate always, and pacific : Ever ready for all the Duties of Piety : Among Husbands, Brothers, Fathers, Friends, he had few Equals : And his Carriage toward all Mankind was eminently benevolent. But what rich Stores of Grace did lie behind The veil of Modesty, no human Mind Can search, no Friend declare, nor Fame reveal, Nor has this mournful Marble power to tell. Yet there's a hast'ning Hour : it comes, it comes, To rouse the sleeping Dead, to burst the Tombs, And set the Saint in view. All Eyes behold, While the vast Records of the Skies unroll'd, Rehearse his Works, and spread his Worth abroad; The Judge approves, and Heav'n and Earth, applaud. Go, C. MATHER. 233 Go, Traveller, and wheresoe'er Thy wand'ring Feet shall rest, In distant Lands, thy Ear shall hear His Name pronounc'd and blest. He was born in Leicestershire, in the year 1664. He died at London, March 27, 1726, Aged Sixty-two years, Much beloved, and miich lamented. COTTON MATHER, D. D. X HE life of this respectable man was published by his son,, Samuel Mather, an abridgment of which has been given to the world by the late learned Dr. Jennings, with, a recommendatory preface by Dr. Watts. This would be a very considerable encomium, if it stood alone : But he had higher claims of regard, both as an indefati gable pastor and a fervent Christian. He was born at Boston in New England, February 12, 1663. His father, Dr. Increase Mather, and his grandfather, Mr. Richard Mather, were both eminent ministers of the gospel in New England. And, by his mother's side, he was grandson to Mr. John Cotton, a man of piety and learning, after whom he was named Cotton. His progress in human literature was great and speedy ; but it was a much brighter part of his character, that, like another young Timothy, he knew the Holy Scriptures from a child. He grew in wisdom and knowledge above most of equal years, as appears by his early hatred of sin, and the solemn transactions of his soul with God. He made remarks upon all authors in the course of his reading, by which means he was natu rally led to study them thoroughly, and to fix what he had so studied upon his memory, which appears to have been strong and retentive. His marriages were these: The first was with Mrs. Abigail Philips, daughter of Colonel Philips of Charlestown. She was his consort till 1702, when she died. His second marriage was in the year 1 703, with a widow gentlewoman, Mrs. Elizabeth Hubbard, daughter of Dr. John Clark. They lived together in perfect har mony for ten years, she dying November 8, 1713. In his fifty-thirtl year he married the widow of Mr. George, (a worthy merchant) daughter of the learned Mr. Samuel Lee. 234 C. MATHER. Lee. With her the Doctor was blessed to the end of his life. He had in all fifteen children, namely, nine by his first wife, and six by his second : but only two survived him : a daughter by the first wife, and a son by the se cond. His method was excellent in the education of his children, but he laboured most to instruct them in reli gion ; and it was his usual way, to pray for each of them separately and by name. He laid, down special rules for his own government in conversation, which he strictly ad hered to. He was so careful to redeem his time, that to prevent the tediousness of visits, he wrote over his study door in capital letters, " Be short." In his account of one year, it appeared that he had preached seventy-two public sermons, besides many private ones ; that not a day had passed without some contrivance to do good, and in which some part of his income had not been dealt out to cha ritable and pious uses ; that, in that one year, he had composed and published fourteen books, and had kept sixty fasts, and, twenty-two vigils. And yet, notwithstanding his amazing diligence in improving his time, his diary abounds with censures*upon himself. For instance, at the end of one year, he writes, (i Time so mis-spent, as to render it unfit to be called life." Another year he calls, " A year of forfeited life." Qn the review of another year, he says, (i Another year of my sinning against my precious Re deemer. Alas ! my unfruitfulness !" Another year he calls, " A year whiled away in sin and sloth." He began to preach when he was about eighteen, and was chosen co-pastor with his father before he was quite twenty years old. This will appear to have been earjy, and perhaps too early. Certainly it can be no rule for those who are not furnished with his uncommon attain ments. It should be remembered, that, at this time, he was not only a master in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, but had gone through a course of other diffi cult and various learning. In his nineteenth year, he pro ceeded master of arts, and chose for his thesis, " The Divine Authority of the Hebrew Points," which he took upon him to. defend, though afterwards, we are told, upon maturer reflection, he saw sufficient reason to change his opinion upon that matter. It appears by some passages in his diary, wrote about that time, how apprehensive he was of danger from temptations to pride, particularly by the following : " The apprehension of cursed pride (the sin of young ministers) working in my heart, filled, me with inexpressible bitterness and confusion before the Lord., In my C. MATHER. 235 my early youth, when some others of my age were play ing in the street, I was preaching to large assemblies : and I was honoured with great respect among the people of God. I feared (and thanks be to God that he made me fear) lest Satan was hereby preparing a snare and a pit for such a novice. I therefore,, resolved, that I would set apart a day to humble myself before God for the pride of my own heart, and to supplicate his grace to deliver me from that sin. And I saw reason to fear, that I had been guilty of it more especially in these two respects : First, by applauding myself in my own thoughts, as when I had either prayed or preached with enlargement, or answered a question readily and suitably: And, secondly, by an am bitious affectation of pre-eminence above what could rea sonably belong to my age or worth. I endeavoured there fore to humble myself with the following considerations." — Here followed several considerations in his diary upon the folly and sinfulness of pride, for his own self-mortifi cation. He had rules for his conduct, in the. exercise of his ministry, such as these : " To exercise himself unto godliness. — To endeavour to suffer injuries and abuses, and bury them in silence, rather than maintain a contest with any man. — To endeavour to maintain a high opinion of the personal worth of the more valuable persons in his, flock, and of the unspeakable worth of the souls of all of them. • — To pray for direction in the choice of his text and subject. — To consider the cases and circumstances of his hearers, as means of direction to the subjects he should preach on. — To have much of Christ in his sermons. — To keep a list of all the members of his church, and to go over it by parcels at a time in his secret prayers. — To visit the families of his flock for their edification, and to propose some edifying questions to the younger branches of them from time to time. " What, says he in one pas sage, have I been doing since I came into the world, about the great errand on which God sent me into it? And if God should now call me out of the world; what would become of me throughout eternal ages ? Have I ever yet by faith carried a perishing soul to the Lord Jesus for righteousness and salvation ?" In the first year of his ministry he had reason to believe he was made the instrument of converting at least thirty souls. It was constantly one of his first thoughts in a morning, " What good may I do to-day ? He resolved this general question into many particulars. His question for the Lord's Day morning constantly was, " What shall I dp 236 C. M A T H E R. I do as a pastor of a church, for the good of the flock under my charge ?" His question for Monday morning was, " What shall I do for the good of my own fa mily ?" In which he considered himself as a husband, a father, and a master. For Tuesday morning, " What good shall I do for my relations abroad ?" Sometimes he changed his Tuesday morning meditation for another, namely, " What good shall I do to my enemies ?. And how shall I overcome evil with good ?'" For it was his laudable ambition to be able to say, " He did not know of any person in the world, who had done him any ill office, but he had done him a good one for it." His question for Wednesday morning was, " What shall I do for the churches of the Lord, and the more ge neral interests of religion in the world ?" His question for Thursday morning was, " What good may I do in the several societies to which I am related ?" The question for Friday morning was, " What special subjects of afflic tion, and objects of compassion, may I take under my particular care ? And what shall I do for them ?" And his Saturday morning question, relating more immediately to himself, was, " What more have I to do for the in terest of God in my own heart and life ?" He was an illustrious imitator of his glQrious Pattern, and the whole aim and labour of his life was tp do good. His application, and the labours he went through, are almost incredible. He wrote and published three hundred and eighty- two books, reckoning essays and single sermons ; and several of the books are of considerable size. He had fhe honour of an epistolary correspondence with several persons of emi nent character for piety and learning in other countries : as the late Lord Chancellor King, the late reverend and celebrated Dr. Frank, professor of divinity in the Univer sity of Hall, in Saxony, and many others. We shall now proceed to farther instances of the power of religion in the heart of this excellent person. He hath left the following memorial of his secret transactions with God on one of his fast days : " In the former part of this day I humbled myself before the Lord with inex pressible agony of soul, for all the filthiness of my heart and life. I did with tears bewail my sinfulness ; and I submitted myself to the sovereignty and to the righteous ness of God, which might uncontroulably make me a vessel of dishonour, and a dreadful monument of divine displeasure. While- 1 was in the midst of disconsolate re flections, the Spirit of the Lord caused me to behold the obedience, C. MATHER. 237 obediehce, the sacrifice, and the suretyship of my precious Redeemer, as provided by the Father for the relief of my distresses : And that good Spirit caused me to rely upon it. So that I said with tears of joy before the Lord, — " Now I know that all my debts are paid. My God will now make no demand of me, but that I love him, and praise him, and glorify my blessed Saviour for ever. I know it, I know it. And now I will do so for ever. I can do no other." Farther, he writes, " The thoughts of Christ are become exceeding frequent with me. I meditate on his glorious Person as the eternal Son of God incar nate ; and I behold the infinite God as coming to me, and meeting with me in this blessed Mediator. I fly to him on multitudes of occasions every day, and am impa tient if many minutes have passed without some recourse to him. I find that, where Christ comes, a wondrous light, life, and peace come with hinij together with strength to go through services and sufferings. The holiness and happiness, to which I am introduced by this way of liv ing, is better to me than all the enjoyments of this world. " All the riches of this world appear contemptible things to me, while I have the unsearchable riches of Christ. In the person of Christ, my Saviour, I behold the infinite God assuming the man Jesus into such an intimate and con scious union with himself, as to constitute a glorious God-man, or a man who hath the fulness of the God head dwelling personally in him. That I may have my Jesus not only doing for me, but also dwelling in me, and enabling me perpetually to feed and live upon him : this will be enough. I care not if I am stript of every thing else, if I may but enjoy this felicity. He is the substance, and all the creatures are but shadows of him. From hence I am wondrously reconciled to my approaching death ; for I consider it as my going from creaturfes here, to him, in whom I shall find all that I leave, and infinitely more. When I now find any thing amiable or comfortable in any creatures, I commonly fly away, as it were from them, to my Christ, my Saviour ; and I think how great is his goodness and his beauty. As for the delights of the world, I know of none comparable to those which I take in communion with my Saviour. As for the riches of this world, I use no labour for them. In my Saviour I have unsearchable riches ; and in my fruition of him I have a full supply of all my wants. As for the ho nours of this world, I do nothing to gain honours for my-> self. To be employed in the Lord's work, for the ad vancement 238 C. MATHER. vancement of his kingdom, is all the honour that I wish for. I find the thoughts of my Saviour for ever sweetening the bitter waters of Marah to me. I find him the Com forter that always relieves my soul, when I have him near to me. I dare not let my mind be idle, as I walk in the streets. I rebuke myself, and make my moan to heaven, if I have gone many steps without one thought of my Saviour." On another of his days of prayer and fasting, he writes, " It was a day full of astonishing enjoyments ; a day filled with resignation, satisfaction, and heavenly astonish ments. Heaven has, as it were, been opened to me this day. Never did I so long to die, and fly away to heaven. I have seen and felt unutterable things. I have tasted that the Lord is gracious. I can by no means relate the com munications of heaven to which I have been admitted. I am now sure that the great God is my God ; that I stand before him in the righteousness of Christ ; that no good shall be withheld from me ; that God will use me to glorify him greatly ; and that I shall be an object fof the everlasting triumphs of infinite grace. I was scarce able to bear the exfasies of divine love into which I was raptured. They exhausted my spirits ; they made me faint; they were insupportable: I Was forced to withdraw from them, lest the raptures should make hie swoon away." We omit several other things of note concerning this ex cellent man, and come to his sicknesses and death. In one of his seasons of sickness he writes thus : " When I was pouring out my soul in prayer to the Lord, I men tioned the further lengthening out of my life, that so I might enjoy and improve more opportunities of glorifying him in this world. And I humbly acknowledge before him two other objections which my flesh had made against my dying ; but which, through his grape, I had now si lenced and conquered. First, my flesh pleaded, that earthly comforts were things too agreeable to be easily for saken. But my faith is satisfied, that the delights of hea ven are sweeter thaln the comforts of earth ; and, there fore, I can freely leave all the entertainments of this evil world, that I may be with Christ, which is far better than them all. Secondly, My flesh pleaded, What will be come of my offspring when I am gone ? But my faith is- satisfied, that God will be a Father to my fatherless chil dren ; and that my Lord Jesus Christ, whom I have served without seeking to gain worldly portions for my children by my ministry, will be their Guardian, and will not suffer C. MATHER. 239 suffer them to want any good thing. My mind being thus easy on these t.wo accounts^ I am ready to die ; and yet I besought the Lord, that he would please to spare my life, that I might do, him a little more service in his church upon earth, before I enter on his promised rest." While he was expecting death, in a fit of sickness some time before his last, he expected it not only without ter ror, but with full assurance of hope. " Lord, sajd he* thou art with me, and dost enable me to sing in the dark valley of the shadow of death. I perceive the signs of death ' upon me, and am I not affrighted ? No, not at all. I will not so dishonour my Saviour, as to be affrighted at any thing that can befall me, while I am in his blessed hands." To some gentlemen who visited him, he said, " I hope I shall not be found a fool, thoUgh here I lie and sing, — Soul, take thine ease; thou hast goods laid up for many years, yea, for endless ages : But they are another sort of goods than those which this vain world puts off its idolaters with." From the beginning of his last sickness, which was about six weeks before he died, he had the sentence of death in himself, as appears by a note he sent to one of his physicians; in which he tola him, " My last enemy is come'; I would say, my best friend." When one of his people asked him, whether he was desirous to die ? he an swered, " I dare not say that I am ; nor yet, that I am not. — I would be entirely resigned to God." When, at another time, he was mentioning some matters he. had on the carpet, and which he would willingly have lived to finish, he checked himself for harbouring any desire of life, and said, " But if the God of my life hath ordered otherwise, I desire to have no will of my own." When the physicians hinted to him, that his sickness was like to be unto death, he lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and said, " Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.'''' And a few hours before he died, he said, " Now I have no thing more to do here : My will is entirely swallowed up in the will of God." To a young minister, his ne phew, he said, "My dear son, I bless you. I wish you all manner of blessings. May you be strong in the grace with which our Lord Jesus Christ will furnish you. And may you be an instrument of displaying his beauties and glories to others. Let it be your ambition to bring forth much of that fruit, by which our heavenly Father is glo-^ rified. May you be fruitful in good works. You have been intimately acquainted with my poor manner of liv ing : Follow whatever you have seen in it, that is agreeable 240 H A R V E Y. agreeable to the pattern of a glorious Christ. — My dear son, I do with all possible affection recommend you to the blessing of our dear Lord Jesus Christ. — Take my hand, with my heart, full of blessings." To his own son he said, "You have been a dear and plea sant child to me, and I wish you as many blessings as vou have done me services, which are very many. I wish and pray, that the God of Abraham, Isaac* and Jacob may be yours ; and that his blessing may rest upon you. I wish* that as you have a prospect of being serviceable in the worlds you may. be considerable and great as the patriarchs were, by introducing [the further knewledge and enjoy ment of] Christ into the world. The grace of our Lord Je sus Christ be with you. Amen." Dr. Mather died February 13, A. D. 1727-8, aged sixty-five. God was graciously pleased to favour him with an easy dismission out of life, and with a sweet composure of mind to the very last :— Blessings which he had often and earnestly prayed for. His Works. He published (as we have observed) in his life-time no fewer than 382 books. Many of these indeed are but small, such as single Sermons* Essays; &C but yet there are some among them of considerable size, viz. " 1. Magnalia Christi Americana. 2. The Christian Philosopher. 3. Ratio Discipline Frdtrum Nov-anglorum. 4. Directions for a Candidate to the Ministry. 5. The Life of his Father. 6. Psalterium Americanum. And he left behind him in MS. among other Books, 7. Biblia Americana: or, Illustrations of the Sacred Scriptures;" This work was proposed to be printed in three folio vo lumes ; but* I believe, it has never appeared. SAMUEL HARVEY; Mr. SAMUEL HARVEY was born at Birmingham in Warwickshire. From the informations of, them who knew him in his earliest youth, there were manifest indi cations of a very serious spirit almost as soon as he could speak. He told a worthy minister, his dear and intimate friend, the Reverend Mr. Broadhurst, of Birmingham, " That as long as he could remember any thing, he re membered his being concerned for the salvation of his soul, and that he always preferred his books and his closet to the diversions of the childish age." He was educated for HARVEY. 241 ¥6r the ministry, and made a great improvement in all the usual parts of learning, and was critically skilled in the Greek tongue. But he especially applied himself to the study of divinity, as more agreeable to the temper of his mind, and the design of his life. His inclinations to the ministry were too strong to be diverted by any worldly views, but grew up with him from his infancy. When his father feared lest his stature should render him des picable, and be an obstruction to his acceptance in the world, he declared to a friend, as his deliberate sense, " That he was willing to undergo any pains, or any re proach for the term of life, if he might be the instrument of saving one soul." While he was in his studies, he used to have set meetings with a select number of fellow- pupils designed for the ministry, at their several cham bers, for solemn prayer to God for a blessing upon their labours. He spent many hours, and sometimes parts of a day in prayer, not from a superstitious fear, or an im posed task, but from the breathings of his soul to God, and from delightful communion with him. His natural capacities were excellent. He had a sound judgment, a quick apprehension, and a tenacious me mory. As he read much, he retained what he read, and would give a surprising account of the sermons he heard. He had a great justness and compass in his thoughts, a natural ease and propriety of expression, and a great mix ture of gravity and liveliness when he was engaged in any service, both in countenance and speech. He delighted in religious conversation, and seldom eared to bear a part in any other, though he would be sometimes cheerful too. Here he shone, and appeared with great advantage, and Was most free and communicative. He had a great opi-, nion of the good which might be done by it, when it turned upon useful and important subjects, and was ma naged with discretion, and with a serious design. Perhaps he was led to this by the remarkable instance which he told an intimate friend, " That when he was a school-boy, his conversation about religion had been the means of the conversion of one who became a minister, which account, he said, he received some years after from the person him self." He kept a Diary for more than sixteen years to gether of the state of his soul, and the remarkable pro* vidences of God, in which were contained many wise and judicious remarks, and the most devout reflections and ejaculations, bewailing the disorders of his mind, im ploring the divine aid, adoring the divine mercy, &c. A VOL. IV. R worthy 242 HARVEY. worthy minister of his acquaintance, and who knew him from his youth, declared, ' That in the latter part of Mr. Harvey's life he considered him as a Christian fully grown, and arrived to the most advanced steps of the divine life, which are found among men on earth.' As to his ministerial character, he was greatly furnished beyond his years, and above the common measure. His discourses were always upon the most weighty and se rious subjects, composed ^eith great judgment^ and dispos ed in the best order, delivered with a manly decency and a becoming zeal, -which engaged attention, and gave de light, and acquired him the great esteem of the serious and judicious in all the congregations in city and country wherever he came. He did not affect a vain ostentation of learning or wit, but chose to appear serious and con cerned, as one who was in good earnest himself, and intent upon doing good to the souls of men. He had great ap prehensions of the mediation of Christ, and the standing influences of the Divine Spirit, as the grand peculiarities of the Christian dispensation, and feared that the want of a due regard to them was one great reason of the languish ing state of religion among us. He had great anxiety about his choice at Sudbury in Suffolk, for some time together, and was desirous to know the will of God by carefully weighing the circumstances of things, and determined^!) follow it, whoever should be of another opinion from him.. His friends generally apprehended him fit for London, where there is the greatest extent of service, and which is the great resource of all reliefs to the country, and that the work at Sudbury would be too great for his strength. The uncommon value and affection of the people at Sudbury for him, and the apprehensions he entertained of greater usefulness in a pastoral relation among a consid erable number of serious persons, determined him for settling there. When he was admonished by an elder mi nister of the weakness of his constitution, he said, " He was willing to venture his life in the service of God, wherever he should call him ; that his Work was a good work ; that he served a good Master, and that he was not solicitous about the event." His sickness was a slow fever, which proved fatal, through the weakness of his constitution, before it was apprehended dangerous. He ventured abroad, while the feverish disorder hung upon him, and much exhausted his spirits in a conversation with some younger perspns, who greatly valued his ministry. When his books wtre packed up for his removal, he said to- EVANS. 243 /' to a friend at the beginning of his sickness, " Perhaps I have a longer journey to go than to Sudbury ;" and so it proved, fpr he died the day before he designed his journey thither, viz. April 17, 1729, aged thirty. The slow ad vance of his distemper at first, which gave no apprehen sion to those about him, and the sudden turn of it after wards, prevented any expressions of his mind about his death. He was often heard to pray the last night, and sometimes in Latin, as supposed for the greater freedom of his thoughts, and that he might not be understood by those who attended. ' This was the Christian, this the minister, (says Dr. Harris, at the close of his funeral ser mon for him, whence these memoirs of Mr. Harvey have been collected) whose conversation and labours we enjoy ed for almost seven years. I doubt not many found that benefit by them, which will never be forgotten. I am sure, we have all a great account to give of their improve ment. God grant that our profiting by the sickness and death, as well as by the life and labours of his faithful servants, may appear to all men !' JOHN EVAN S§ D jection, from a religious scruple. In 1748 he revised the expository works and other remains pf the excellent Archbishop Leighton, and translated his Latin prelections, which were printed together in two volumes at Edin7 burgh. The Archbishop's Commentary upon the first Epistle of St. Peter hath since been reprinted, under the inspection of the Reverend Mr. Foster, at London. JONATHAN EDWARDS, D. D, W E are now to speak of a man of whom it is not easy to speak with justice, without seeming to border upon adulation. There is also an additional difficulty which attends the Christian biographer when he aims to de scribe the characters of extraordinary men, and which the writers of other lives are generally allowed to forget : — He must so represent the motives and actions of the per sons he offers to view, as to remind his readers that they, no less than himself, are to consider the uncommon excel lencies of some characters, not as resulting from the mere force or acumen of natural ability, but as flowing entirely from the Divine Bounty for purposes of his own appoint ment. ''t'to ftc^iet directs ManhT ^ From, an. original JPicatre in du pofsrfsion of' the lter.dJ)?Eifkvie £dini>unjh ¦ EDWARDS. 295 ment. Otherwise, instead of rightly placing them in a view for an imitation, attainable in any degree only through grace, or for an encouragement, reviving to the soul through the same grace, we should only set up idols, though idols of more worth than gold, and lead others astray, as well as ourselves, from the One gheat Ob,- ject of the Christian life, which is Jesus Christ and his fulness, which filleth all in all, Interested in Him, it is a privilege to hear of his wonderful works in or by his emi nent servants ; and it is the confirmation of the privilege to be enabled to imitate them. If their graces send us upon our kneCs, and thereby are the means of quickening ours, we have not run over their history for an idle amuse ment, but have made the right1 use of it, which is, the spurring us on to follow them, who now through faith and patience inherit the promises. Mr. Jonathan Edwards* was born on the 5th of Octo ber 1703, at Windsor, in the province of Connecticut, North America. His father was minister of that place almost sixty years; he was descended from Mr. Richard Edwards, minister of the gospel in London, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, by whom, it seems, his wife was em, ployed for some part of her royal attire. In short, by his lineage, it appears that his ancestors came from the west of England, and allied themselves, upon their emigration, to some of the best families in the New Country, whither they came. Our Author was entered at Yale College in 1716, .and was made bachelor of arts in 1720, before he was seven teen years of age. His mental powers opened themselves so early and so strong, that he read Locke's Essay upon Human Understanding with delight, in his second j99ar at this college, when other boys usually amuse themselves with Robinson Crusoe, or books of romance and amuse ments He discovered thus early an uncommon depth, solidity, and penetration of mind, which found nothing so pleasant to itself, as the exercise of its own powers. He lived at college near two years after taking this first degree, preparing himself, principally, for the sacred function, * There was another valuable writer of the name pf Jonathan Ed wards, Principal of Jesus College, Cambridge, who published an excellent book, entitled, ' A Preservative against Socinianism,' in four parts, 4to. The first of which was printed in 1693, and the last '1703. Another writer of the same name, Dr. John Edwards, is worthy of remembrance for his well-known treatise '. Veritas redux,' and many other books upon. theological subjects. 296 EDWARDS. function. After passing the usual trials, he was licensed, according to the custom of the college and the form of re ligion in the province, to preach the.gospel as a candidate. In August 1722. he received a call to preach to the English presbyterians at New- York, where he continued with approbation above eight months. This society was then too small to maintain a minister, and therefore, in the spring of the year 1723, he returned to his father's house in Connecticut, where, during the following summer, he followed his studies with the closest application. It ap pears, however, that he had a deep sense of his Christian and ministerial profession upon his mind, during his abode at New-York ; that the people he watched over became very dear to him, and that he left them at last with great regret. Some extracts from his own Diary will delineate more exactly the frame of his mind at this time, and therefore they are committed to a note below,* In * " Wednesday, January 2, 1722-3. Dull. I find by experience, that Jet me' make resolutions, and do what I will, with never so many in- ventions, ih is all nothing, and to no purpose at all, without the mo tions of the Spirit of God! For if the Spirit of God should be as much withdrawn from me always, as for the week past, notwith standing all I do, I should not grow, but should languish, and mi serably fade away. — There is no dependence upon myself. It is to no purpose to resolve, except we-depend on the grace of God; for if it were not far his mere grace, one might be a very good man one day, and a very wicked one the next, Thursday, January 10, about noon, reviving. it is a great dishonour to Christ, in whom I hope I have an interest, to be uneasy at my worldly state and condition. When 1 see the prosperity of others, and that all things go easy with them ; the world is smooth to thein, and they are happy in many re spects, and very prosperous, or are advanced to much honour, &c. to grudge and envy them, or be the least uneasy at it; to wish or long for the same prosperity, and that it would ever be so with me. Wherefore, concluded always to rejoice in[every one's prosperity, and to expect from myself no happiness of that nature as long as I live; but depend upon afflictions, and betake myself entirely to an other happiness. I think I find myself much more sprightly and healthy, both in body and mind, for my self-denial in eating, d ink ing, and sleeping. I think it would be advantageous every morning to consider my business and temptations, and what sins I shall be ex posed to that day : And to make a resolution how to improve the day, and to avoid those sins. And so at the beginning of every week, month, and year. I never knew before what was meant by not set ting our hearts upon these things. It is, not to care about them, to de pend upon them, to afflict ourselves much with fears of losing them, nor please ourselves with expectation of obtaining them, or hope of the continuance of them. At night made the forty-first resolu, tion Saturday, January 12, in the morning. I have this day so lemnly renewed my baptismal covenant and self-dedication, which I renewed when 1 was received into the communion of the church. I have been before Gpd; and have given myself, all that 1 am and have, to God, EDWARDS. 297 In the spring of the year 1724, having taken his mas ter's degree in the year before, he was chosen tutor of Yale College ; and he followed this duty above two years. It must be owned, that this was an engagement of great consequence for a young man of twenty-one, who, by his eafly introduction to the ministry and other avocations, could God, so that I am not in any respect my own : I can challenge no right in myself; I can challenge no right in this understanding, this will, these affections that are in me ; neither have I any right to this body, or any of its members : No right to this tongue, these hands, nor feet: No right to these senses, these eyes, these ears, this smell or taste. I have given myself clear away, and have not retained any thing as my own. 1 have been to God this morning, and told Him that I gave myself wholly to Him. I have given every power to Him; so that for the future I will challenge no right in myself, jn any respect. 1 have expressly promised Him, 'and do no-w promise Almighty God, that by his grace 1 will not. I have this morning told Him, that I did take Him for my whole portion and felicity, looking on nothing else as any part of my happiness, nor acting as if it were; and his law for the constant rule of my obedience: And would fight with all my might against the world, the flesh, and the devil, to the end of my life. And did believe in Jesus Christ, and receive him as a Prince and a Saviour; and would adhere to the faith and obedience of the Gospel, how hazardous and difficult soever the pro fession and practice of it may be. That I did receive the blessed Spirit as my teacher, sanctifier, and only comforter; and cherish all his motions to enlighten, purify, confirm, comfort and assist me. This I have done. And I pray God, for the sake of Christ, to look upon it as a self-dedication ; and to receive me now as entirely his own, and deal with me in all respects as such; whether he afflicts me or prospers me, or whatever he pleases to do with me, who am his. Now, henceforth I am not to act in any respect as my own. 1 shall act as my ownj if 1 ever make use of any of my powers to any thing that is not to the glory of God, and do not make the glorifying Him my whole and entire business; if 1 murmur in the least at afflictions; if- 1 grieve at the prosperity of others; if I am any way uncharitable; if I am angry because of injuries; if I revenge; if 1 do any thing, purely to please myself, or if I avoid any thing for the sake of my ease: If I omit any thing because it is great self-denial: If I trust to myself: If I take any of the praise of any good that I do, or rather God does by me; or if I am any way proud, Tuesday, January 15. It seemed yesterday, the day before and Saturday, that I should always retain the same resolutions to the same height, but alas ! how soon do 1 decay ! O, how weak, how infirm, how unable to do any thing am 1! What a poor, inconsistent, what a miserable wretch, without the assistance of God's Spirit ! While I stand, I am ready to think I stand in my own strength, and upon my own legs; and I am ready to triumph over my enemies, as if it were I myself that caused them to flee: When, alas! I am but a poor infant, upheld by Jesus Christ; who holds me up, and gives me liberty to smile to see my enemies flee, when he drives them before me; and so I laugh, as though I myself did it, when it is only Jesus Christ leads me along, and fights himself against my enemies. And now the lord has a little left me, and how weak 298 EDWARDS. could not have found too many opportunities for his own improvement : But the strength of his mind overcame what are usually insuperable difficulties in the way of the generality; and perhaps his genius acted more forcibly from not being fettered with academical clogs, which other geniuses, of an elevated rank, could never endure. I need weak do I find myself! O, let it teach me to depend less on myself, to be more humble, and to give more of the praise of my ability to Jesus Christ. The heart of man is deceitful above all things, and despe rately wicked; who can know it? Saturday, March 2. O, how much pleasanter is humility than pride ! O, that God would fill me with exceeding great humility, and that he would evermore keep me from all pride! The pleasures of humility are really the most refined, inward and exquisite delights in the world. How hateful is a proud man ! how hateful is a worm that lifts up itself with pride ! What a foolish, silly, miserable, blind, deceived, poor worm am I, when pride ¦works! Wednesday, March 6, near sun set. Felt the doctrines of elec tion, free-grace, and of our not being able to do any thing without the grace of God; and that holiness is entirely, throughout, the work of God's Spirit, with more pleasure than before. Wednesday, May 1, forenoon. Last night I came home, after my melancholy parting from New- York. I have always, in every different state of life I have hitherto been in, thought the troubles and difficulties of that state to he greater than those of any other, that I proposed to be in ; and when I have altered, with assurance of mending myself, I have still thought the same ; yea, that the difficulties of that state are greater than those that I left last. Lord, grant that from hence I may learn to withdraw my thoughts, affections, desires, and expec tations, entirely from the world, and may fix them upon the hea venly state, where there is fulness of joy ; where reigns heavenly, sweet, calm, and delightful love without alloy; where there are con tinually the dearest expressions of their love: Where there is the enjoyment of the persons loved, without ever parting : Where those persons, who appear so lovely in this world, will really be inexpres sibly more lovely, and full of love to us. How sweetly will the mutual lovers join together to sing the praises of God and the Lamb ! How full will it fill us with joy to think, this enjoyment, these sweet exercises, will never cease or come to an end, but will last to all eternity! Thursday, October 18. To follow the example of Mr. B— ¦— , who, though he meets with great difficulties, yet undertakes them with a smiling countenance, as though he thought them but little ; and speaks of them as if they were very small. Monday, February 3, 1724. Let every thing have the value now that it will have on a sick bed : And frequently in my pursuits, of whatever kind, let this come into my mind : How much shall I value this on my death-bed ? Sa turday night, June 6. This week has been a remarkable week with me with respect to despondencies, fears, perplexities, multitudes of tares, and distraction of mind; being the week I came hither to New- Haven, in order to entrance upon the office of tutor of the college. I have now abundant reason to be convinced of the troublesomeness and vexation of the world, and that it never will be another kind of world. Tuesday, September 2. By a sparingness in diet, and eating, as much as may be, what is light and easy of digestion, I shall doubt less EDWARDS. 299 need only mention Milton, Dryden, and Swift, in confir mation of such an opinion. Our Author was certainly not in the highest class of learned men ; for his times, his duties, and his means, did not allow of such an attain ment : But he was far more happily employed both for himself and others ; and he hath given such proofs of a mind uncommonly invigorated and enlightened, that it is matter of joy it was not engrossed by studies, which would have rendered him only the admiration of a few, instead of allowing him to be the instructor of all. He had, in short, the best and sublimest sort of knowledge, without being too much incumbered with what was unnecessary to or beneath his calling. In September 1 726, he resigned his tutorship, in conse quence of the invitation of the people at Northampton in Connecticut for assistance to his mother's father Mr. Stod dard, who was the settled minister of the town. He was ordained colleague on the 15th of February 1727, in the twenty-fourth year of his age, and continued in the ministerial service there till the 22d of June 1750; when he was dismissed in as extraordinary a way, and for as extraordinary a cause, as perhaps most of our readers may ever have heard of. ' We have (says his Biographer) with respect to this, an instructive lesson on the stability of all human affairs, and the unreasonableness of trusting in man.' He might have said — the unreasonableness of submitting such a man as Mr. Edwards to the passionate ignorance of the brutish multitude. What seems at first to have rendered Mr. Edwards an object of hatred, was a circumstance, which should have made him, and would have made him among persons truly religious, an object of love. Some young persons of his flock had procured some obscene publications, which they commented upon among themselves for their own im provement in lasciviousness, and which they quoted, with the usual decency of such persons, for an impression upon others. This came in a short time to Mr. Edwards's ears ; and therefore, taking occasion, after a sermon upon Heb. xii. 15, 16. preached for the purpose, to call the leading members of his charge together, he informed them of what he had heard, and procured a consent that the matter should less be able to think clearer, and shall gain time, ist, By lengthening out my life. 2dly, Shall need less time for digestion after meals. Sdly, Shall be able to study closer without wrong to my health. ilhly, Shall need less time to sleep. 5lhly, Shall seldomer be troubled with the head-ache." 300 EDWARDS. should be examined. A committee was appointed for this purpose, and to assist the pastor. When this was done, Mr. Edwards appointed a time of meeting ; and then read a list of the names of young persons, accusing and ac cused, without specifying under which predicament they stood, who were desired to come together at his house. Upon the declaration of names, it appeared, that almost all the families in the town had some relation or other con cerned in the matter ; and therefore a great number of the heads of families not only altered their minds about examination, but declared, that their children, &c. should not be called to account for such things as these. The town was immediately in a blaze : And this so strength ened the hands, or hardened the faces of the guilty, that they set their pastor at defiance with the greatest inso lence and contempt. Here this affair ended : And ob scenity enjoyed its triumph. But its effects did not end here. Mr. Edwards's hands were weakened; and, we are told, that he afterwards had no great visible success in his ministry, but, on the con trary, that security and carnality much increased among his people, and the youth in particular became more wanton and dissolute. All this paved the way for something more/ It had been a standing opinion among this people for some time, countenanced also by their late pastor, ' That unconverted persons,' known to be such by the ungodliness of their lives, or the ignorance of divine truth in their minds, by which men are known to be unconverted, ' had, notwith standing, a right in the sight of God to the sacrament of the Lord's Supper ; and that, therefore, it was their duty to partake of it, even though they had no appearance of the grace and holiness which the gospel slates to be inse parable from true believers.' It was sufficient, if they were outward and visible members ; ' so that they, who really rejected Jesus Christ, and disliked the gospel way of sal vation in their hearts, and knew that this was true of them selves, might (inconceivable as it appears) make the pro fession without lying and hypocrisy.' To the common inconveniencies always attending a Na tional church, where it is impossible to examine every man's profession, or to keep him from disgracing it, here is an addition becoming the disciples of Ignatius of Loyola, by which men may be hypocrites without the guilt of hy pocrisy, and lyars without the imputation of sin. A con venient sort of principle indeed, to men of a certain cast ; but EDWARDS. 301 hut by no means to those, who are never to forget, that fornication and all uncleanness — should not be even named amongst them, as becometh saints. See Eph. v. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Mr. Edwards had long been uneasy upon the prevalence of this principle, which, i believe, no church of Christ ever avowed, and upon his own yielding to the example of his predecessor, and to a practice settled before he came hither. His doubts and inquietude {as might be expected from so gracious a man) increased upon him, and drove him at length to a thorough investigation of the subject, the re sult of which was, (and how could it be otherwise?) an absolute conviction of the error, and a firm determination to expose it. He saw, " that to be a visible Christian was to put on the visibility or appearance of a real Christian ; that the profession of Christianity was a profession of that in which real Christianity consists;" and that, there fore, as the Lord's Supper was intended for real Chris tians, none ought to come to it, who were not at least professors of real Christianity, and to whom no imputa tion of allowed ungodliness could justly be made. The declaration of his mind upon this head,* among such a kind of men, raised an immediate clamour, and put this town into as great a ferment, as the preaching of an holy apostle had long before occasioned at Ephesus. They were all in an uproar ; and Dismiss him, dismiss him, Was the universal cry of men, women, and elders. He had touched a favourite sin, and a favourite principle which protected it: And (what was a very great truth, though not in their sense of it) he was no longer fit to be their pastor. He attempted to reason with them calmly, but he breathed against the winds. They knew well enough, that their views were by no means subjects of cool discussion : for there is no man so base Or so stupid as to believe, that iniquity can be sanctified by reason or revelation ; and therefore, the business was to be bellowed down with the force of lungs, against which it is scarce possible for the gentle voice of meekness and wisdom to be heard in opposition. Mr. Edwards, when they would not hear him, wished to refer the matter to impartial judges out of the vortex of this noisy faction ; but this would not answer their de signs of confusion and the meditated ruin of Mr. Edwards, more than the former proposal. He attempted to discuss the matter in a course of lectures, which he began for the purpose ; but they would not hear him. Rebellion, like the sin of witchcraft, as a prophet hath observed, added stubborn- 302 EDWARDS. stubbornness to their iniquity, and diffused itself so um> versally among these people, that there was not a tenth of the whole which did not declare against him. So fro- ward is the multitude at all times under the inflammation of nonsense and wickedness, that no conciliations, urged with truth and calmness even for their own interest, can claim or receive a moderate attention.. While the hot fit lasts, medicaments, like oil, do only heighten the flame. How often did he use all means in his power to reduce them at least to a calm, if not a charitable temper; to hear and weigh, with a little attention, what he had to say for himself; and not to condemn him, were it only for their own sakes, without some shadow of a reason ! But his meekness and modesty were treated as concessions against himself, and only raised the insolence and fury of his ad versaries, instead of lowering them into peace. Nothing would serve their turn, (how highly soever against their spiritual and real interests) but an absolute separation ; and they who disagreed before, agreed with lies and con tumelies to promote this mean and unjust design, in the true spirit of injustice and meanness. Their excellent pastor had written against the liberty of the will in divine concerns; but these unreasonable men were resolved he should feel that it had liberty enough to do him evil in his human affairs. Mr. Edwards, deploring their unhappy temper, and finding all methods ineffectual to restrain the torrent of virulence, slander, and falsehood rolling upon him, at length yielded to a low artifice of these men in packing a council, composed of people like themselves, which soon came to a resolution for his dismission. Only twenty out of above two hundred who voted upon this occasion, were for Mr. Edwards; and therefore he was expelled, with all the marks of an inexpressible rancour, on the 22d of June 1750. Thus had these wretched people the lasting infamy of endeavouring to ruin one of the meekest and humblest of men, and the most able and celebrated divine, who hath as yet been born in America. — But they knew not their own mercies; and it would be well if yet they knew them. — Such a man as Mr. Edwards would impart honour to any country or profession, and be readily embraced by all: How difficult is it then to reflect, without some indignation, that a person of his uncommon worth should be made the sport of wayward ignorance, or be baffled by the cunning intrigues of an ungodly party, or be overawed EDWARDS. 303 awed by the insolent clamours of a licentious mob ! How much is it to be regretted, that these, who should have been ruled by him according to the gospel, should arro gate to themselves the place of rulers; that they, who should have listened to his gracious instructions, should fancy themselves too wise to be taught ; and that, by thus inverting the order of things, they should have power to open for themselves a door to faction, and to all the consequences of faction — tumult, misrule, nonsense, and anarchy ! The few abhorrers of this atrocious act entered an unavailing protest against it. The good man, shocked rather for his enemies than for himself, preached a most solemn and affecting farewell discourse, which was after wards published, on 2 Cor. i. 4. on which he raised this doctrine: " That ministers, and the people who have been under their care, must meet one another at the tri bunal of Christ." — A very solemn truth it should be to those who disregard other tribunals ; but it did not at all affect these people, who had renounced their allegiance to justice, truth, and reason. This malice of his enemies, raised against him (it must ever be remembered, for the honour of the gospel and him self) only for his RESISTING SIN, did not stop here. When there was no preacher to supply the pulpit at times, he cheerfully gave them his service, rather than it should be empty, or any means should be wanting for their good. This kindness, which would have conciliated more ingenuous and gracious minds, only increased the diabo lic flame kindled in their's ; insomuch that they called their town together, and voted, that he should preach among them no more. And so they frequently went without preaching, rather than have the free ministra tions of a man, of whom the world itself was not worthy. But these are the blessings of an absolute democracy! J Thus ended his service of near four-and-twenty years for an undiscerning and ungrateful people, who had been much upon his heart, and for whom he had always ex pressed a very tender concern. " For their good he was always writing, contriving, labouring; for them he had poured out ten thousand fervent prayers ; and in their wel fare he had rejoiced as one that findeth great spoil." Yet all their detestable conduct did not alter the frame of his mind. " His calmness and sedateness, his meekness and humility under the most injurious treatment, his resolu tion and conduct in the whole affair, were truly wonder ful, 304 EDWARDS. fuh. and Cannot be set in so beautiful and affecting a light by giny description, as they appeared in to his friends who were eye-witnesses." This incomparable man was now in the decline of life, and with little or no income besides his stipend; and this throws the greatest light upon his faithfulness and since rity : Nor had he the views of support from another ap pointment ; for he knew not how far the malice of his people might extend to prevent it, or the prejudice of his dismission operate against him elsewhere : Nor was he capable (alas! what a pity he should be driven to think of it!) to take up any other business for a support. Thus beggary and disgrace were before him. But he had a goad Master ; and he knew that he was good. He had com fort from him in his soul, and, in a short time, sustenance by his providence for the wants of himself and his house hold. Ashamed at this unparalleled baseness to so excel lent a man, his friends, or rather the friends of godliness, administered to his relief, and he was soon after appoint ed to the mission at Stockbridge ; but not before some other insolent and bitter attempts had been made to mur der his reputation, as well as to deprive him of bread. The voluntary retraction of one man, though a ring leader in this iniquitous business, ought to save him from being involved in the common infamy. The remorse of Mr. Joseph Hawley, while it entitles him to our forgive ness, confirms, and in the strongest language too, both Mr. Edwards's innocence and the turpitude of his com rades. For these reasons we subjoin it' in a note for the reader.* Mr, * ' To the Rev. Mr. Hall of Sutton. ' Rev. Sir, Northampton, May 9, 1760. ' 1 bave often wished that every member of the two ecclesiastical councils (that formerly sat in Northampton upon the unhappy differ ences between our former most worthy and reverend pastor Mr. Jona than Ed.vards, and the church here) whereof you was a member; 1 say, Sir, I have often wished every one of them truly knew my real sense of my own conduct in the affairs that the one and the other of said councils are privy to; and as I have long apprehended it to be my duty not only to humble myself before God for what was unchristian and sinful in my conduct before said councils, but also to confess my faults to them, and take shame to myself therefore before them. I have often studied with myself in wb.at manner i£ was practicable for me to do it; and when I understood that you, Sir, and Mr. Eaton, were to be at Cold Spring at the lime of their late council, I resolved to improve the opportunity fully to open my mind there to you and him thereon; and thought that probably some method might be then thought. EDWARDS. 305 Mi*. EtWards, who was able to shine in the seats of learning, and some time hence was called to pneside over one, was now delegated to the instruction of savage Indians at Stockbridge. This place is in the western part of Massachusetts Bay, and about sixty miles from Mr. Edwards' former residence at Northampton. He was fixed here thought of in which my reflections on myself touching the matters above hinted at, might be communicated to most if not all the gen tlemen aforesaid, who did not reside in this country : JJiit you know, Sir, how difficult it was for us to converse together by ourselves when at Cold Spring, without giving umbrage to that people: I therefore proposed writing to you upon the matters which I had then opportunity only most summarily to suggest, which you, Sir, signified would be agreeable to you : I therefore now undertake what I then proposed, in which I humbly ask the divine aid; and that I maybe made most freely willing fully to confess ray sin and guilt to you and the world in those instances which I have reason to suppose fell under your no tice, as they w.ere public and notorious transactions, and on account whereof, therefore, you, Sir, and all others who had knowledge thereof, had just cause to be offended at me. And in the first place, Sir, I apprehend thatj with the church and people of Northampton, 1 sinned and erred exceedingly, in consenting and labouring that there should be so early a dismission of Mr. Edwards from his pastoral rela tion to us, even upon the supposition that he was really in a mistake in the disputed point: Not only because the dispute was upon matters so very disputable in themselves, and at the greatest remove from fun damental, but because Mr. Edwards so long had approved himself a most faithful and painful pastor to said church, and also changed his sentiments in that point wholly from a tender regard to what appeared to him to be truth, and had made known his sentiments with great moderation, and upon great deliberation, agaiust all worldly motives, and from mere fidelity to his, great Master, and a tender regard' to the souls of his flock, as we had the highest reason to iudge : Which consi derations now seem to me sufficient; and would (if we had been of a right spirit) have greatly endeared him to his people, and made us, to the last de'gree, reluctant to parting with him, and disposed us to the exercise of the greatest candour,1 gentleness, and moderation : Hoiv much the reverse whereof appeared in us, I need not tell you, Sir, who was an eye-witness of , out" temper and conduct. And although it does hot become me to .pronounce decisively on a point so disputable as what was then in dispute; yet 1 beg leave to say, that I really ap prehend that it is of the highest moment to the body of this church, and to me in particular, most solicitously to inquire, whether, like the Pharisees and lawyers in John Baptist's time, we did not reject the counsel of God against ourselves, in rejecting Mr. Edwards and his doctrine: Which was the ground of his dismission. And I humbly conceive that it highly imports us' all of this church, most seriously and impartially to examine what that most worthy and able divine about that time published in support of the same, whereby he being dead yet speaketh. But there were three things, Sir, especially in my own particul-r conduct before the first council, which have been justly matter of great grief and much, trouble to me,almost ever since : to wit, in the 'first place, I con/ess, cir, that I, acted very immodestly VOL. IV. "'' X ' and 306 EDWARDS. here on the 8th of August 1751 ; and here he continued his labours, in more peace and quietness than he had ever known before, for six years. In this interval, old as he was, he made greater attainments in knowledge, and wrote more for the church of God, than he had ever been able to do, within the same space of time, during the former part and abusively to you, as well as injuriously to the church and myself, when, with much zeal and unbecoming assurance, I moved the council that they would interpose to silence and stop you in an address you was making one morning to the people, wherein you was, if I don't misremember, briefly exhorting them to a tender remembrance of the former affection and harmony that had long subsisted between them and theii1 reverend pastor, and the great comfort and profit which they had apprehended that they had received from his ministry, for which, Sir, I heartily ask jour forgiveness ; and I think that we ought, instead of opposing an exhortation of that nature, to have received it with all thankfulness. Another particular of my conduct before that council, which I now apprehend was criminal, and was owing to the want of that tender affection and reverend respect and esteem for Mr. Edwards which he had highly merited of me, was my strenuously opposing the adjournment of the matters submitted to that council, for about two months, for which t declare myself un- ifeignedly sorry ; and I with shame remember, that I did it in a pe remptory, decisive, vehement, and very immodest manner. But, Sir, the most criminal part of my conduct at that time, that I am con scious of, was my exhibiting to that council a set of arguments in writing, the drift whereof was to prove the reasonableness and ne cessity of Mr. Edwards' dismission in case no accommodation was then effected with mutual consent; which tract by clear implication con tained some severe, uncharitable, and, if I do not rtiisremember, ground less and slanderous imputations on Mr. Edwards, and expressed in bitter language ; and although the original draft thereof was not done by me, yet I foolishly and sinfully consented to copy it, and, as agent for the church, to read it and deliver it to the council, which 1 could never have done, if I had not had a wicked relish for perverse things : Which conduct of mine, I confess, Was very sinful ; am persuaded was highly provoking to God, and for which I am ashamed, con founded, and have nothing to answer. As to the church's remon strance (as it was called) which their committee preferred to the last of said councils, to all which 1 was consenting, and in the composing whereof I was very active, as also in bringing the church to their ¦vote upon it: I would in the first place only observe, that I do not re member any thing in that smalt part of it which was plainly discur sive of the expediency of Mr. Edwards' re-settleinent here as pastor to a part of the church, which was very exceptionable ; but as to all the residue, which was much the greatest part thereof, (and I am not certain that any part was wholly free) it was every where larded with unchristian bitterness, sarcastical and unmannerly insinuations, con tained divers direct, grievous, and criminal charges and allegations against Mr. Edwards, which I have since good reason to suppose were all founded on jealous and uncharitable mistakes, and so were really gross slanders, also many heavy and reproachful charges upon divers of Mr. Edwards' adherents, and some severe censures of them ail EDWARDS: 30? part of his life. In this retirement, he composed his deepest and most valuable works : So that when, in his own judgment, as well as that of others, his usefulness seemed to be cut off, he found greater opportunities of more lasting service than ever. A pleasing calm, after so grievous a storm, to his placid mind ! On all indiscriminately ; all of which (if not wholly false and groundless) yet were altogether unnecessary; and therefore highly criminal. In deed, I am fully convinced, that the whole of that composure, except ing the small part thereof above-mentioned, was totally unchristian, a scandalous, abusive, injurious libel, against Mr. Edwards and his particular friends, especially the former, and highly provoking and detestable in the sight of God, for which I am heartily sorry and ashamed; and pray I may remember it with deep abasement and pe nitence all my days; Nor do I now think that the church's conduct in refusing to appear and attend before that council to support the charges and allegations in said remonstrance against Mr. Edwards and said brethren, which they demanded, was ever vindicated by all the subtile answers that were given to said demand ; nor do I think that our conduct in that instance was capable of a defence ; for it ap pears to me, that by making charges of scandalous matters against them before said council, we necessarily so far gave that council ju risdiction ; and 1 own with sorrow and regret, that I zealously en deavoured; that the church should perseveringly refuse to appear before said council for the purpose aforesaid, which I humbly pray Gori to forgive. Another part of my conduct, Sir, of which I have long repented; and for which I hereby declare my hearty sorrow, was my obstinate opposition to the last council's having any conference with the church, which said council earnestly and repeatedly moved for, and which the church finally denied; (as you know) I think it discovered a great deal of pride and vain sufficiency in the church, and shewed them to be very opinionative, especially the chief sticklers, one of whom I own I was, and think it was running a most presumptuous risk, and acting the part of proud scorners, for us to refuse hearing and candidly and seriously considering what that council could say or propose to us ; among whom there were divers justly in great re putation for grace and wisdom. In these instances, Sir; of my con duct, and others (to which you was not privy) in the course of that . most melancholy contention with Mr. Edwards, wherein I now see that I was Very much influenced by vast pride, self-sufficiency; ambi tion, and vanity, I appear to myself vile, and doubtless much more • so to others who are more impartial; and do, in the review thereof, abhor myself, and repent sorely: And if my own heart condemns me, jt behoves me solemnly to remember, that God is greater, and knoweth all things : And 1 hereby own, Sir, that such treatment of Mr. Edwards, as is herein before mentioned, wherein I was so deeply concerned and active, was particularly and very aggrayatedly sinful and ungrateful in me, because I was not only under the com- mon obligations of each individual of the society to him, as a most able, diligent, and faithful pastor; but I had also received many in stances of his tenderness, goodness, and generosity to me, as a young kinsman, whom he was disposed to treat in a most friendly manner. Indeed, Sir, I must own, that by my conduct in consulting and acting 308 EDWARDS. On the death of Mr. Aaron Burr, president of New Jersey College, which was on the 24th of September 1757, the trustees of that seminary did themselves the honour of choosing Mr. Edwards to succeed him. As this was un solicited and unexpected, it gives great credit to both sides.' But our excellent Author was so far from desiring this acting against Mr. Edwards withm the time of our most unhappy disputes with him, and especially in and about that abominable re monstrance, I have so far symbolized with Balaam, Ahitbophel, and Judas, that I am confounded an* filled with terror oftentimes when I attend to the most painful similitude. And I freely confess, that oh account of my conduct ahove-meHtioned, I have the greatest reason to tremble at those most solemn and awful words of our Saviour, Matth. xviii. 6, and' those in Luke x. at the 16th: And 1 am most sore- ly sensible that nothing but that infinite grace and mercy which saved some of the betiayers and murderers of our blessed Lord, and the per secutors of his martyrs, can pardon me; in which alone 1 hope for pardon, for the sake of Christ, whose blood (blessed he God) clean- seth from all sin. On the whole, Sir, I am convinced that I have the greatest reason to-say, as David, ' Have mercy upon me. 0 GOD, accord' • ing to- thy loving kindness ; according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my Irartsgresfiorts, rvash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin ;' for 1 acknowledge my transgressions, artd imy sin is ever before me. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities : Create in me a clean heart, 0 GOD, and renew a right "spirit within me; cast me not away froth thy presence, and take not 'thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me tlie joy of thy solvation, and uphold me with thy free Spirit.' And I humbly apprehend that it greatly concerns the church of Northampton most seriously to examine whether the many hard speeches, spoken by many particular members against their former pastor, some of which the ebutdh really countenanced,' and especially those spoken by the chui'ch as a body, in that most vile remon strance, are not so tidioos and iingodly as to be utterly incapable of defence; and whether said church were not guilty of great sin in being so willing and disposed, for so slight a cause, to part with so faithful and godly a minister as Mr. Edwards was : And whether ever God will hold ns guiltless, until we cry to him for Christ's sake to pardon and save us froth that judgment, which such ungodly deeds deserve, and publicly humble and take shame to ourselves therefore.' And I most heartily wish and pray;' that the town and ehurch of Northampton would seriously and carefully examine whether they have not abundant cause to judge, and they are now lying under great guilt in the sight of God: And whether those of us, who were concerned in fhat most awful contention with Mr. Edwards, can ever more reasonably expect God's favour and blessing, until our eyes are opened, and we became thoroughly convinced that we have greatly- provoked the Most High, and been injurious to one of the best of men; arid until we shall be thorbughiy convinced that we have dreadfully persecuted Chti-t by persecuting and vexing that just man and servant of Christ ; until we shall be humble as in the dust therefore, and till we 6per.ly, in' full terms,' and without baulking the matter, confess the fame before the 'wotld, and most humbly and earnestly seek for giveness of God, and do what we can to honour the memory of Mr. Edwards, EDWARDS. 309 this preferment, that it was with difficulty he could be {irevailed on to accept it ; modestly and unaffectedly al- eging his own insufficiency, ill health, and disuse to that kind of lite. At length, upon the arguments and persua sions of his brethren in the ministry, he did accept of this presidency, and went from Stockbridge to Prince Town, in January 1758. But, alas.' the end of his labours on earth Edwards, and clear it of all the aspersions which we unjustly cast upon him; since God has been pleased to put it beyond our power to ask his forgiveness. Such terms I am persuaded the great and righteous God will holdus to, and that it will be in vain for us to hope to eseape with impunity in any other way. This I am convinced of with regard to myself, and .this way I most solemnly propose to take to myself, (if God in his mercy shall give me opportunity) that so, by making free confession to God and man of my sin and guilt, and publicly taking sname to myself therefore, I may giye glory to the God of Israel, and do what in me lies to clear the memory of that venerable man from the wrongs and injuries I was so active in bringing on his reputation and character; and I thank Goo that he has been pleased to spare my life and opportunity therefore to this time, and am sorry that 1 have delayed the affair so long. Although I made the substance of almost all the foregoing reflections in writ ing, but not exactly in the same manner, to Mr. Edwards and the bre thren who adhered to him, in Mf. Edwards's life, and before he re moved from Stockbridge, and I have reason to believe that he, from his great candour and charity, heartily forgave me and prayed for me: Yet because that was not generally known, I look ou myself obliged to take further steps ; for while I kept silence, my bones waxed old, &c. For all these my great sins, therefore, in the first place, I humbly and most earnestly ask forgiveness of God; nextly, of the relatives and near friends of Mr. Edwards. I also ask the forgiveness of all those who were sailed Mr. Edwards's adherents, and of all the members of the ecclesiastical councils above-mentioned ; and lastly, of all Chris tian people, who have had any knowledge of the matters abovesaid, ' or any of them. I have no desire, Sir, that you should make any secret of this letter,, but desire you would communicate the same to whom you shall judge proper; and I purpose (if God shall give rae opportu nity) to procure it to be published in some one of the public news papers; for I can't devise any other way of making known my sen timents of the foregoing matters to all who ought to be acquainted therewith, and therefore I think I ought to do it, whatever, remarks I may foresee will be made thereon. Probably, when it comes out, some of my acquaintance- will pronounce me quite over-run with va pours; others.will be furnished with matter for mirth and pleasantry; otlnffS,).if'ili cursorily pass it over, as relating to matters quite stale; but some, I am persuaded,! will rejoice to see me brought to a sense of my sin' and duty; and I myself shall be conscious that I have done something of what the nature of the case admits, towards undoing what is, and long has been, to my greatest remorse and trouble that it was ever done. Sir, I desire that none would entertain a thought from my having spoken respectfully of Mr. Edwards, that I am disaf fected to our present pastor; for the very reverse is true, and I have a reverend esteem, real value, and hearty affection for him, and bless God that he has, notwithstanding all our unworthiness, given us one fq succeed Mr. Edwards, who, (as I have reason to hope) is truly faithful. 310 EDWARDS. earth was approaching. He had only preached two or three sermons, not having entered fully upon the duties of his new office, before he was called to a higher place and to better service. The small-pox, which hath always been unusually fatal in America, had infected Prince Town, which induced the physician of the place to advise him to be inoculated, with the consent of the corpora tion. Accordingly he was inoculated on the 13th of Fe bruary, and his disorder at first seemed to be favourable ; but a fever coming on, and the pustules lying much in his throat, no proper medicines could be administered, and therefore the violence of it raged, till it put an end to his mortal life, on the 22d of March 1758, in the fifty- fifth year of his age. When he was sensible that death was approaching, he called his daughter, (who was the only part of his family which had yet remoyed with him) and addressed her in the following words : '* Dear Lucy, it seems to me to be the will of God that I must shortly leave you: There fore, give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her, that the uncommon union which has so long subsisted be tween us, has been of such a nature as I trust is spiritual, and therefore will continue for ever. I hope she will be supported under so great a trial,, and submit cheerfully to the will of God. And as to my children, you are now like to be left fatherless, which I hope will be an induce ment to you all to seek a Father who will never fail you." He desired that his funeral might be attended with no pa rade, (as is usual in America) but rather something be given to the poor. He could say but little in his sick ness, owing to the nature and seat of his disorder ; but just at the last, when surrounded by friends lamenting their own loss, and that of the church and college, he said, to their great surprise, as they did not imagine he heard them, or could speak himself, " Trust in God, and ye need not fear." And then, almost literally, fell asleep in Jesus. It is with regret that we cannot lay before our readers many striking passages of this gracious soul's conversion, life, I conclude this long letter, by heartijy desiring your prayers, that my re pentance of my sins aboveTmentioned may be unfeigned and genuine, and such as God, in infinite mercy for Christ's sake, will accept : And I beg leave to subscribe myself, ' Sir, your real, though very unworthy friend, ,; and obedient servant, ' Joseph Ha\uey.' EDWARDS. 311 life, and ministry, which are preserved and left behind^ him. We will give, however, as much as we can, for such men do not arise too often. Though he was of a tender and delicate constitution, yet few students are capable of close application more hours in a day than he. He commonly spent thirteen hours every day in his study. His most usual diversion in the summer was riding on horseback, and walking. He would commonly, unless diverted by company, ride two or three miles after dinner to some lonely grove, where he would dismount and walk a while. At which times he generally carried his pen and ink with him, to note any thought that should be suggested, which he chose to retain and pursue, as what promised some light on any important subject. In the winter he was wont almost daily to take an axe, and chop wood moderately for the space of half an hour or more. He had an uncommon thirst for know ledge, in the pursuit of which he spared not cost nor pains. He read all the books, especially books of divinity, that he could come at, from which he could hope to get any help in his pursuit of knowledge. And, in this, he con-r fined not himself to authors of any particular sect or deno mination, but took much pains to come at the books of the most noted writers, who advance a scheme of divinity most contrary to his own principles. But he studied the Bible more than all other books, and more than most other divines do. His uncommon acquaintance with the Bible appears in his sermons, and in most of his publications : And his great pains in studying it are manifest in his ma nuscript notes upon it. He was thought by some, who had but a slight acquaintance with him, to be stiff and unT sociable; but this was owing to want of better acquaint ance. He was not a man of many words indeed, and was somewhat reserved among strangers, and those on whose candour and friendship he did not know he coujd rely. But how groundless the imputation of stiff and unsociable was, his known and tried friends best knew. They always found him easy of access, kind and condescending; and though not talkative, yet affable and free. Among such whose candour and friendship he had experienced, he threw off the reserve, and was most open and free ; quite patient of contradiction, while the utmost opposition was made to his sentiments that could be by any plausible arguments or objections. His conversation with his friends was al ways savoury and profitable: In this he was remarkable, and almost singular. He was not used to spend his tiniewith 312 EDWARDS. with them, in scandal, evil-Speaking, and back-biting, or ih foolish jesting, idle chat, and telling stories : But his mouth was that of the just, which bringeth forth wisdom, and his lips dispersed knowledge. His tongue was as the pen of a ready writer, while he conversed about import ant, heavenly, divine things, which his heart was so full 6f, in such a natural and free manner, as to be most en tertaining and instructive: So that none of his friends could enjoy his company without instruction and profit, unless it was by their own fault. He kept himself quite free from worldly cares. He gave himself wholly to the work of the ministry, and entangled not himself with the affairs of this life. He left the particular over-sight and direction of the temporal concerns of his family almost entirely to Mrs. Edwards, who was better able than most of her sex to take the whole care of them on her hands. He was less acquainted with most of his temporal af fairs than many of his neighbours, and seldom knew when and by whom his forage for winter was gathered in, or how many milk kine he had, whence his table was furnished, &c. As to his secret life and walk with Gop, we must refer the reader to his Diary which he left behind, some ex tracts of which, as a specimen, we take leave to offer in the note beldw.* President * The first that I remember, that ever I found any thing of that soft of inward sweet delight in God and divine things, that I have lived much in since, was on reading, those words, 1 Tim. i. 17. ' Now unto the Icing eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise GOD, be honour and glory, for ever and ever. Amen.' As I read the words, there cattle into my soul, and «a& as it were diffused through it, a sense of the glory of the Divine Being ; a new sense, quite different from any thing I ever experienced before. Ne ver any words of Scripture seemed to me as these words did. I thought ¦with mysslf how excellent a Being that was, afid how happy I should be if I might eujoy that God, and be wrapt up to God in heaven., and be, as it were, swallowed up in him. I kept sayifig, and, as it were, singing over these words df Scripture to myself; and went to prayer, to pray to God that I might enjoy him: and prayed in a manner qiirie different from what I used to do, with a new sort of affection. But it never came into my thought that there was any thing spiritual, or of a saving nature in this. Not, long after I first began' to experience these things, I gave an account to my father of some things that had passed in my mind. I was pretty much affected by the discourse we had to gether. And when the discourse was ended, I walked abroad alone, in a solitary place in my father's pasture, for contemplation. And as I was walking there, and looked up on the sky and clouds, there came into my mind a sweet sense of the glorious majesty and grace of God, that I know not how to express. I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction: Majesty and meekness joined together: It «m a sweet and gentle, and holy majesty, and a!^o a rirajtstie 'Meekness; an EDWARDS. 313 President Edwards left many MS. volumes, written miscellaneously, upon almost every subject in divinity, •not for publication, but for his own improvement. He is said to have commented largely upon several difficult pas sages in the Bible not explained fully by others, and to have thrown much light upon them. If those who possess his an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness. After this my sense uf divine things gradually increased, and became more and m®re lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The ap pearance of every thing was altered: There seemed to be, as it were, a cairn, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thm^. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, moon, and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all na ture, which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for a long time; and so in the day time, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glbry of Goo in these things : In the mean time singing forth with n low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing, among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning. Formerly, nothing had been so terrible to me. I used to be a person uncommonly terrified with thunder : And it used to strike me with terror, when I saw a thunder storm rising. But now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God at the first appearance of a thunder storm : 'And used to take opportunity at such times, to fix myself to view the clouds, and see the lightnings pliy, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God's thunder : Which often times was exceeding entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. And while I viewed, used to spend my time, as it always seemed natural to me, to sing or chant forth my meditations ; to speak my. thoughts in soliloquies, and speak with a .singing voice. The delights which' 1 now felt in things of religion, were of an exceeding different kind from those forettientioned, that I had when I was a boy. They were totally of another kind; and what I then had no more nation or idea of, than one born blind has of pleasant and beautiful colours. They were of a more inward, pure, soul-ani mating, and refreshing nature. Those former delights never reached the heart; and did not arise from any sight of the divine excellency of the things of God, or any taste of the soul-satisfying and life-giving good, there is in them. My sense of divine things seemed gradually to increase, until I went to preach at New York, which was about a year and a half after they began. While I was there, I fejt them, Very sensibly, in a much higher degree than I had done before. My long. ings after God and holiness were much increased. Pure and humble, holy and heavenly Christianity, appeared exceeding amiable to me. I felt in me a burning desire to be in every thing a complete Christian, and conformed to the blessed image of Christ : And that I might live in all things, according to the pure, sweet, and blessed rules of the gospel. The heaven I desired was a heaven of holiness ; to be with God, and to spend my eternity in divine love, and holy commu nion with Christ. My mind was very much taken up with contemp lations on heaven, and the enjoyments of those there, and living there in perfect holiness, humility, and love. And it used at that tjme 314 EDWARDS. his papers, would publish these after the manner of Estius, which they might easily do, it would doubtless be an ac ceptable present to the religious world, and meet with en couragement. His Works, published. " I. A Sermon preached at Boston, on 1 Cor. i. 29, 30, 31. II. A Sermon preached at Northampton, time to appear a great part of the happiness of heaven, that there the saints could express their love to Christ. It appeared to me a great such an emphasis and significant look, as conveyed their important meaning in a manner the most sensible and affecting. The Doctor, seeing the great difficulty and pain with which he spoke, (for he was almost suffocated with phlegm and frequent vomitings,) and finding, by his pulse, that the pangs of death were then coming on, desired, that he would spare himself. " No, (said he) Doctor, no ; you tell me I have but a few moments to live : 0! let me spend them In adoring our great Redeemer." He then repeated the 26th verse of the seventy-third Psalm. Though my flesh andmy heart fail, yet God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever : And he expatiated in a most striking manner on these words of St. Paul, 1 Cor. iii. 22, 23. All things are your s ; life and death ; for ye are Christ's. At the same time referring them to this passage in Dr. Doddridge's ' Family Expositor,' where it is illus-* trated in a very instructive manner. " Here (says he) is the treasure of a Christian. Death is reckoned among this inventory ; and a noble treasure it is. How thankful am I for death, as it is the passage through which I pass to the Lord and Giver of eternal lift ; and as it frees me from all this misery you now see me endure, and which I am willing to endure, as long as God thinks fit ; for 'I know, he will by and by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These light afflictions are but for a moment, and then comes an eternal weight of glory. O ! welcome, welcome death ! — Thou mayest well be reck oned among the treasures of the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain" After which, as the Doctor was taking his final leave of him, Mr. Hervey expressed great gratitude for his visits, though it had been long out of the power of medicines to cure him. He then paused a little, and with great serenity and sweetness in his coun tenance, though the pangs of death were upon him, being raised a little in his chair, repeated these words ; " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy most holy and comfortable word ; for mine eyes have seen thy precious salvation. Here, Doctor, is my cordial ! What are all the cordials given to support the dying, in comparison J. HERVEY. 325 comparison of that which arises from the promises of sal vation by Christ ?— This, this supports me." About three o'clock he said, " The great conflict is over — Now all is done." After which he scarce spoke any other words in telligibly, except now and then, " precious salvation." During the last hour he said nothing, but leaned his head against the side of an easy chair, and, without a sigh, groan, struggle, or the least emotion, he shut his eyes and departed, between four and five in the afternoon, on Christmas day 1758, in the forty-fifth year of his age. When his body was conveyed to church, it was cover ed, by his express desire, with the poor's pall, and he was buried under the. middle of the communion-table in the chancel of Weston-Favell; on Friday the 28th of Decem ber, in the presence of a numerous congregation, full of re gret for the loss of so excellent a pastor. — -Mr. Maddock, who buried him, was himself in tears. — Some were wring ing their hands, others sobbing, many were silently weep ing, but all were inwardly and sincerely grieved, as their looks sufficiently testified; all bearing a visible witness of his worth and their sorrow. The poor thankfully acknow-r ledged his benevolence, and, as they looked into his grave, seemed to say within themselves, ' There lies the man whose unwearied kindness was the constant relief of my various distresses ; who tenderly visited- my languishing bed, and readily supplied my indigent circumstances.'*, Others, once ignorant -and ungodly, looked at this depo-, situm of his body, and thus vented their expressive sighs: ' Here are the last remains of that sincere friend who watch* edfor my soul. — I tremble to think into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have been plunged, had not his faithT ful admonitions and repeated exhortations been blessed to arrest me in the wild career. I was then unacquainted with the gospel of peace, but now enlightened through his instructions, I see the all-sufficiency of my Saviour, His discourses are still warm on my heart, and I trust will be more and more operative on my life.'f It may be truly said of Mr. Hervey, that few lives have ever been more heavenly, and few deaths more triumphant. He died in the Lord, and is now at rest ; where even the wicked cease from troubling. His name is recorded in the annals of eternity, and the honours conferred on him by Christ will for ever continue blooming and incorruptible in * See « Meditations among the Tombs." Vol. I. p. 65, + Ibid, J. HERVEY. in the world of glory. His character, both in his public and private capacity, was of the most exemplary kind. As a minister, he performed all the duties of that office with the greatest strictness. In the pulpit he was earnest and ferventr and shewed that he felt the efficacy of what he preached. Nor did he think it sufficient to preach on the Lord's Day only, but set up a weekly lecture every Wednesday evening at Weston-Favell church, which was very well attended. This lecture was held during the winter half-year at seven, as it did not then interfere with the work of the labouring people, and he illuminated the church out of his own pocket, not chusing to put the pa rish to any additional expence. His zeal for the perfor mance of his duty was, however, for some time before he died, much interrupted by the ill state of his health, which would not permit him personally to execute the pastoral duties even of the parish of Weston, where he resided : A circumstance that gave him inexpressible concern. The last two or three years of his life he could scarce do any thing more than preach once on the Lord's Day, when people from many miles round flocked to hear him. His Wednesday eveninglecture at seven he discontinued for the last year. Collingtree, which, like Weston-Favell, was a family-living, about five miles distance, Mr. Hervey had not been able for some time to preach at, or to visit his parishioners at their own houses, as his custom had been ; but he encouraged them to come to him, and to converse freely on the subjects relating to their eternal interests ; and on such occasions, he would speak with a force and propriety peculiar to himself. He would frequently la ment his inability to serve his. people, comparing himself to a bleeding disabled soldier, and " only not slain." He always preached without notes, except on some very particular occasions ; but his method was judicious, clear, and not encumbered with too many subdivisions. His weakness rendering him for several months before his death incapable of speaking to his congregation as usual, he shortened his discourses, and took a most useful method of inculcating his instructions: After he had ex pounded his text, and divided his sermon into two heads, (rarely into more, and never exceeding three) he would speak briefly, and at the conclusion of each head enforce what he had said, by a pertinent text of Scripture, de siring his congregation (which was generally very nu merous) tq turn to their bibles, and double down that text! J. HERVEY. 327 text. " Now, (added he) my dear brethren, if you for get my sermon, you cannot forget God's word in this text, unless you wilfully throw your Bibles aside. Shew these to your children, or the absent part of your family, when you return home." . Then he gave a striking ex hortation, and at the end of it another text for them to double down, so that they had always three texts ; in or der to their finding of which, he paused in the pulpit two or three minutes. This method was attended with ano ther good effect; it obliged the generality to bring their Bibles along with them ; for those who were without a Bible lost the benefit of the texts, and were unemployed, while the majority, who had their's, were busy in looking for the passages referred to in his sermon. He endeavoured as much as possible to divest himself in his public discourses of his usual luxuriancy of style, and to adapt his language to the lowest capacity. In this he followed the example of Luther, of whom it is reported he should say, " If in my preaching I were to pay a reT gard to Philip Melancthon and other learned divines, then I should do little good. I preach in the plainest manner to the illiterate, and that gives content to all. Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, I spare till the learned ones come to gether." Mr. Hervey thought perspicuous language and evangelical doctrines of much more importance to his pa rishioners, than elaborate or ornamental discourses, though few men living, perhaps, were more capable of satisfying a polite or learned audience. His method of catechizing children in church, and of speaking to them in private, was very engaging and useful. He put little questions to them after they had repeated the words of the catechism; as for instance, '¦ Well, my little maid, let me hear if you understand what you said: If you do understand the meaning of these words, you will then be able to answer the questions I shall put to you."* He would at these times ask not only such ques tions as were suitable to the words of the catechism, but also such as wOuld strike at the capital vices of his pa rishioners, yet without giving personal offence.-j- He * For some farther account of his manner of catechizing, see his *» sixty-first Letter." -f- Some of his parishioners having lain in bed on a Sunday morning longer than he approved, — and others haying been busy in foddering their cattle when he was coming to church, and several having fre quented 328 J. HERVEY. He did not forget that he was a minister in his own house, for he worshipped God with his family twice a- day. He supped at eight every night, and at nine he ex pounded a text of Scripture for about a quarter of an hour, and seldom longer, except when some friend was present, to whom he thought his discourse might be useful, or when particularly requested to enlarge. After this he concluded with prayer. He breakfasted at nine, and about eight he called his fa mily together, and required each of his servants to repeat by heart the text which he had explained the preceding evening, and then he would recapitulate his exposition: By which method both his text and commentary were imprinted on their memories. After this he had prayers. In the afternoon when he was called down to tea, he used to bring his Hebrew Bible or Greek Testament with him, and would speak (as he was ever studious how he might promote the glory of God, and improve time) ei ther upon one or more verses, as occasion offered, in the most instructive and entertaining manner. And in the summer season he would now and then drink tea, when his health would permit him., with some of his most seri-r pus parishioners, and then five or six of the neighbours were invited, and Mr. Hervey's conversation was remark ably affecting, as he had a happy talent at spiritualizing almost every incident, and was naturally of a most oblig ing and cheerful disposition. He was a member of an assembly formed for Christian improvement, which was established in his neighbourhood on the 7th of July 1747, and constantly attended it so long as he was able to ride to the place of meeting. A short account of the rules of this assembly is given at the end quented the alehouse, he thus catechised one of the children before the congregation: " Repeat me the fourth commandment. — Now, little man, do you understand the meaning of this commandment ?"— Yes, Sir — " Then, if you do, you will be able to answer me these questions.— Do those keep holy the Sabbath day, who lie in bed till eight or nine o'clock in the morning;} instead of rising to say their prayers and read the Bible •" No, Sir. — " Co those keep the Sabbath vho fodder their cattle, when other people are going to churcb ?" No, Sir. — Does God Almighty bless such people as go to alehouses, and don't mind the instructions of their minister?" No, Sir. — " Don't those, who love God, read the Bible to their families, particularly on Sunday evenings, and have prayers every morning and nisht in their houses?" Yes, Sir. — A great variety of such pertinent and familiar questions he would frequently ask in the most en gaging manner, on every part of the catechism, as he thought most ui* ducive to the improvement and edificaliun of his parish. J. HERVEY 329 end of his " Tracts," together with two prayers composed by him for the use of the members thereof. In the exercise of his charity, Mr. Hervey chose to clothe the poor rather than to give them money ; and he would get some judicious person to buy linen, coarse cloth, stockings, shoes, Sec. for them at the best hand ; alleging that the poor could not purchase on such good terms what they wanted at the little shops, and with small sums of money. " I am (said he) God's steward for the poor, and I must husband the little pittance I have to bestow upon them, and make it go as far as possible;" But when money would be really serviceable to a family, as to a prudent housekeeper, distressed by sickness or misfor^ tunes, he would give five or more guineas at a time ; taking care that it should not be known whence the money came. Pope's compliment to Mr. Allan of Bath, might be justly applied to him, who would Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. He was particularly desirous of getting the advice of a physician (or at least some judicious apothecary) for the sick poor ; and was ever ready to procure them the very best medicines. — A most beneficial sort of charity to mankind ; and in which it were to be wished he had many imitators. — He would frequently petition such physicians of his acquaintance in different parts of the kingdom, as he apprehended thus charitably disposed, to give their ad vice occasionally, when they rode through a town, to such poor creatures as the clergyman of the place, or some sub stantial inhabitants, should recommend as real objects of compassion. — Mr. Hervey would then with great pleasure, and with as much gratitude to the physician, as if done to himself, defray the expence of what medicines were wanted. He greatly disapproved indeed of the clergy's attempting to give medicines to their parishioners ; as he Judiciously inferred, that it was impossible for them to do it with the requisite judgment. " Let my brethren, [he would say) give them wine, bread, or beer, and get «>-ood spoon-meats made for them ; but medicines are of too important a nature to be given indiscriminately." He >bserved, that, by his own method, the sick poor had tlie /ery best medicines, as the physician saw them himself, ind bought them -very cheap ; because the apothecary, knowing they were for charitable uses, charged the phy sician for them no more than prime cost, with some little dlowance merely for his trouble in compounding them ; and 330 J. HERVEY. and as the physician knew what diseases were curable, there was no waste of medicines in fruitless attempts to cure cases, which, though actually incurable, persons of less judgment could not pronounce to be so. He gave away a great number of good books, with suitable instructions for their use ; and especially Bibles. In the blank leaf he frequently wrote something capable of making an impression, or else stuck in a printed paper relating to the promises of God, in and through Jesus Christ, or to creation, preservation, and redemption. * AH the future profits of his works he has left to some of the charitable uses above specified, except his " Me ditations," the copy of which he had sold, after it had passed through several editions ; which sale of the copy, and the profits of the former impressions, amounted to about seven hundred pounds, all which he gave away in charity. He said, that it was devoted to God, and that he would on no account apply it to worldly uses ; that he wrote not for profit or fame, but to serve the cause of Gou ; and as Providence had blessed his attempt, he thought himself bound to relieve the distresses of his fel low-creatures with it. In any expence relating to himself, he was extremely frugal, that he might be liberal to others ; and it was always his desire to die just even with the world. " I will be my own executor," said he. And as he died on Christmas day, his fund expired almost with his life. What little remained, he desired might be given in warm cloth ing to the poor in that severe season. In learning he was inferior to few. Greek was almost as familiar to him as his native language. He was a great master of the classics ; and in the younger part of his life had written some copies of verses, which shewed no con temptible genius for poetry. He had a critical knowledge of the Hebrew tongue, and delighted in it. With respect to his private capacity, he was never known to he in a passion. No worldly concerns (though he sometimes met with very trying ones, ever affected him. His humility rendered him invulnerable. — When he was misrepresented and calumniated, he would say, " Our enemies are some times our best friends, and tell us truths ; and then we should amend our faults, and be thankful for such infor mation : And if what they say be not true, and only spoke through malice, then such persons are to be considered as diseased * See a copy of this printed psiper among his " Tracts." J. HERVEY, 331 diseased in their minds, and that he would pray for them. They are to be pitied, says he, and I might as justly be angry with a man who is diseased in body." In his ordi nary transactions with others, he was ever cheerful, punc tual, just, and candid, to persons of every denomination. He frequently wrote religious letters to his acquaintance according to their different circumstances, in the most amiable and convincing manner. The reverend Mr. Romaine, in an excellent sermon preached upon his death, says of Mr. Hervey, ' That he had an excellency, which he never saw in so great a degree in any other person. Mr. Hervey never let an opportunity slip of speaking of the love of Christi He would take occasion from the most common incident, and yet it would not appear forced ; for he had a wonderful talent of spiritualizing and improving things. This heart-love to God appeared evidently in every part of his character. As a minister, his faith wrought in love to the souls of men in all the offices of his function. He did not forget that he was a minister in his own house, for he called his family together twice a day to serve God. As a mem ber of society, his faith wrought , abundantly by love to his neighbour ; for he was full of good works. His cha rities to the poor were very large ; and that he might be liberal to them, he was very frugal in his own expences, Mr. Hervey walked close after Christ, and found that the belief of Christ's righteousness being imputed to him for his justification, was so far from being a licentious doc trine, that it inspired him with the noblest motives to a grateful obedience : His holy life wa3 an excellent recom mendation of his principles. God had enriched him with great gifts, and with great graces, and had made him humble, for he was humbled by the power of grace. He had been a very vain proud young man, but the grace of God emptied him of pride and self, and clothed him with humility. Having put on Christ, he had put on with him the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit; which ap peared in his great patience and resignation to the will of God.' Some have, with absurdity enough, objected to Mr. Hervey what they are pleased to call Calvinism, forgetting or not observing, that all the doctrines of free grace, fer vently preached by Calvin, and therefore meant to be abused by his name, are the doctrines of the church of England, which every minister of that church is bound to observe and teach upon Oath. Hence, if he omit to preach 332 J. HERVEY. preach them, and much more if he dare to preach contrary to them, he is not only a doctrinal dissenter from that church, but an impiously perjured person in the sight of God and man. Our dissenters in general have had but too much reason to say, ' that they have kept our own articles for us ;' and to the honour of many among them it must be added, that they have adorned the doctrines too by their lives and writings, as some accounts in these vo lumes do evidently testify and confirm. Indeed, it is in vain to expect vital religion upon false principles, or holi ness of heart and life from unsound opinions. Men do not gather grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles. Mr. Hervey hath also been thought to verge too nearly to Antinomianism. But he was far from being an Anti- nomian. His writings every where shew, the necessary agency of the Holy Spirit to lead the heart to Christ, and to keep it holy through Christ. He disclaimed the boasted powers of fallen nature, and would know nothing but Jesus Christ, as the wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, of all the people of God. Candid, un doubtedly he was, in the highest degree ; and his candour upon some occasions, as is usually the case with minds like his, might lead him to think better of some men and of their views and professions, than they deserved. He seemed much of the same temper with the apostle ; not withstanding every way, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ is preached; and I therein do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice. His amiable spirit led him to think well, and his Christian spirit to do well, with respect to all men. His writings afford a lasting and indisputable proof of his grace and abilities. These were given him for the use of the church of God ; and they were laid out for that end. His style has been much admired. It must be owned, that there is much of brilliancy and floridness in all his compositions : But persons of refined taste have expressed themselves much less satisfied with his language than his thoughts. The nervous, chaste, and manly style of the ancient classics he certainly has not copied ; but ra ther that laboured attention to words and turns, which has been objected to in Seneca, Austin, and others. However, this is but of small importance, compared with the hea venly truths he delivered, and the seraphic ardour with which he has delivered them. The casket indeed is bril liant, and carefully brilliant ; but it is the jewel within, that renders the whole invaluable. His G, JONES. 333 His Works^ " I. Meditations and Contemplations, in two volumes. These had a prodigious sale, and have been much blessed to all ranks among us. II. Theron and Aspasio, in three volumes. These contain dialogues upon many divine truths, and particularly upon justifica tion by the imputed righteousness of Christ. III. A Col lection of his Letters, jn two volumes, published after his death. These are eminently pious and valuable,! and throw great light upon the course of his life. IV. Sermons and Religious Tracts, comprized in one small volume. V. Eleven Letters to the Rev. John Wesley, in- answer to his Remarks upon Theron and Aspasio. These are high ly excellent, and shew the mild and gracious spirit of their Author; under an attack that does but too little ho nour to him that made it. VI. Letters to Lady Frances Shirley, in one small volume ; with a recommendatory preface by the Rev. Mr. Romaine. VII. Three Post humous Sermons, published by the Rev. Mr. Toplady. And VIII. Sermons on the Trinity, Repentance, Scrip tures, and the Love of God, published from his Manu scripts, 1779." GRIFFITH JONES. JVl'R. JONES was born in the parish of Kilredin, in the county of Carmarthen, and descended from a reli gious and reputable family* A thirst for learning, join ed with a quickness of genius, engaged him in an early and successful application to study. Having spent some time at a country school, his mother (for he lost his fa ther when very young) put him under the care of an eminent classical master, who then presided in the gram mar-school at Carmarthen. Mr. Jones made great pro ficiency in the Latin and Greek languages, and in other branches of learning, though he laboured, at that time, under the great disadvantage of a very weak constitution of body. From his youth up, his turn of mind had been extremely serious : And he was often observed to retire from those pleasures and amusements which usually en chant the younger part of mankind. His inclination strongly disposed him to the work of the ministry, though he always considered the office as unutterably weighty, and of the last importance. He received deacon's orders from 334 G. J 0 N E S. from the learned Bishop Bull, on September 19, 1708 ; and was ordained priest, September 25, 1709, by the same prelate: Of whom Mr. Jones always spoke with the high est esteem, and from whom he received some advices and cautions, which were always recent in his mind. He was preferred to the rectory of Llandowror by the late Sir" John Philips of Picton Castle, Bart, who honoured Mr, Jones with an intimate friendship till the day of his death. This promotion was given him by Sir John, entirely on account of his learning and piety, without solicitations from Mr. Jones himself, or from any of his friends. After some time, the society for propagating the gospel in foreign parts, fixed on him as a person admirably qua lified to be sent as a missionary amongst the Indians; and he was earnestly solicited by the society to undertake the charge, as appears by several letters yet extant. He gave his consent, and addressed himself to the studies necessary to fit him for that work. But Divine Providence ordered things otherwise. Mr. Jones's usefulness lay in his own country; and Wales was not to be deprived of so eminent a minister, whose labours proved so great a blessing to it. Divinity was the grand study of his life. As he had strong intellectual abilities, and a very tenacious memory, by a close and diligent application, he became well versed in the writings of the most eminent English and foreign divines. This circumstance contributed much to form and improve his style. His sermons were well composed and digested. He entered into the very heart of whatever subject he un dertook. His divisions were obvious and perspicuous: His deductions natural : His matter solid, lively, strikingj and judicious. These advantages!, set off by an agreeable delivery, a musical voice, and a proper action, soon made him famous as a preacher, and great multitudes flocked td hear him wherever he Went. In reading the church-ser vice, he was devout and pathetic, without affectation. He did not hurry the prayers over, as is too often the case, with precipitancy and carelessness, but had a sacred awe upon his mind : ever remembering, that he was address ing himself not to man, but to God, who trieth the reins and the heart. He observed the stops and pauses with so great judgment, and pronounced his words with so grave and pleasing an accent, that he generally engaged the attention of all who heard him. Even the uncon verted seemed to feel somewhat of the energy with which be spake. When he ascended the pulpit, it was with re verence and holy fear. His prayer was fervent. He had an G. JONES. 335 an unassuming solemnity and seriousness in his coun tenance, sweetened with all the meekness of charity and love. His pronunciation and manner" of speaking, in the beginning, were gentle and easy. In the explication of his text, or of any divine truth, he was clear and perti nent. As he advanced, his subject fired him more and more. One while he glowed with ardent love to his fel low-saints and fellow-sinners: Anon, he flamed with holy indignation against all ungodliness and unrighteous ness of men : Then melted into tenderness and grief, lest the means of grace might not be rendered effectual to his hearers. On these occasions, every feature, and every nerve, seemed intensely animated. There was a noble pomp in his descriptions, clearness and strength in his reasonings. His appeals to conscience were dose and pointed. A surprising force and abruptness sharpened his interrogations. A sacred pathos distinguished his address. He spoke naturally, for he spoke feelingly. Every thing he uttered bore that stamp of sincerity, which art may mimic, but cannot reach. In refuting, remonstrating, and reproving, he assumed the tone of conviction and ma jestic authority: But when he came to the application, he gave way to a still superior burst of religious vehemence, which, like the impetus of an irresistible torrent, mightily carried all before him. Great was the power of the Di vine Spirit that accompanied the word. The prayerless cried for mercy, and the ignorant were made wise unto salvation. He warmly invited the poor to become spiritu ally rich ; the indigent and guilty to accept of pardon- He enforced the necessity of doing good works, and at the same time displayed the madness and impiety of trusting in them. Christ was all to him; and it was his greatest delight to publish and exalt the unsearchable riches of his Redeemer's righteousness. Nor was his de votion confined to the pulpit. As he had a full and deep Conviction of human depravity and inability, accompa nied with a thorough persuasion of the divine all-suffi ciency, this induced him to be frequent and earnest in closet prayer. Moreover, he thought it his incumbent duty, wherever he staid, (like the pious patriarchs of old) to build an altar unto the Lord in the family, and to of fer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God, through Christ Jesus. His constant method, morning and even ing, was, to call his domestics together ; and his neigh bours wore welcome to come and join with him. Amongst 336 G. JONES. Amongst the people committed to his care, his deport ment was courteous ; He would stoop, with the utmost cheerfulness, to the lowest among them ; and carried the spirit of his sermons into his ordinary conversation. He maintained an uniform, affable gravity of behaviour, with out suffering his temper either to stiffen into moroseness, or to evaporate into levity. He was cheerful, but not light ; serious, but not sad. It was his constant business and daily endeavours to set forward the salvation of his flock. As he had frequent invitations to preach in other churches besides his own, he would willingly comply: And he often bent his course to such parts of the country as abounded with much ignorance, where he would most familiarly address himself to the uninformed, and adapt his style to the lowest capacity among them. He earnestly inculcated the whole truth of the gospel in the course of his ministrations. Let any of those truths be ever so dis agreeable to the prejudices of some, or ever so contrary to the worldly interests or inclinations of others, they were sure not to hear a tittle suppressed. He endeavoured, indeed, to shew the gospel system in as lovely a light as he could : But no consideration could prevail upon him to conceal or disguise, much less to stifle or keep back any part of it. Like a wise and tender physician, he diligently and minutely inquired into the state of his people's souls :¦ As, whether they were competently acquainted with the way of salvation ; and whether the grace of the Holy Spirit had put them into that way. He was, likewise, an able casuist to resolve the doubts of tempted souls, and to encourage the hopes of the desponding. He would often inculcate the necessity of family worship, and ear nestly exhorted the heads of families to catechize their children and servants. He entreated them not to neglect closet devotion : And warned them carefully against squandering away the Lord's Day in impertinent visits* idle chat, or foolish jesting. And, when he found any guilty in these matters, he would not speak against them in their absence ; but, whether they were rich or poor, whether they were pleased or displeased, he bore in his mind the commandment of the Lord, and shewed his people their transgression, and the house of Jacob their sins. He would tell them, with tenderness, and yet with plainness, that such courses were a sad and sure proof that grace had not its proper work on their souls : That they were car nal, and had not the Spirit of Christ. He was a constant inspector G. JONES. 337 inspector of their actions ; a faithful monitor of their duty ; and an impartial reprover of their offences. To improve the minds of those with whom he con versed, was another of his remarkable qualities. Few were better furnished, either with richness of fancy, depth of thought, or copiousness of expression, to bear a shining part in conversation. With these talents, he always en deavoured to give some useful and religious turn to the dis course. He had the amiable art of making an heavenly use of earthly things. His divine Master sent disciples (men ordained to teach the universe) to learn maxims of wis dom from the birds of the air; so he made common occur rences to1 be monitors to instruct his friends ; and glad he was, Very glad, to have an opportunity of glorifying his Maker, and to awaken in himself and others a more lively spirit of devotion. He had always a particular pleasure and delight in speaking of, and hearing others recommend, the love of Christ. He seemed as if he had made that pas sage of St. Augustin his motto, who said, Si scribas, non placet mihi nisi legam Jesum ; si conferas, non sapit mihi, nisi sonueris ibi Jesum ; quia Jesus est in ore rheo mel, in aure melos, in corde jubilum. f I am neither pleased with those writings, nor yet with that conversation, in which I find not a savour of the name of Jesus : For he is as ho ney to my mouth, music to my ears, and joy to my heart.' To lay plans and schemes for the good of others, was his frequent study ; and to carry those beneficial contrivances! into execution, was his favourite employ. He was very diligent in procuring subscriptions for the support of cir culating Welsh free-schools, to teach poor men, women, and children, to read their native language ; under whose care and management they were carried on for near thirty years. In these schools, no less than one hundred fifty- eight thousand two hundred and thirty-seven poor ignorant persons have been taught, to read ; who, in all proba bility, would have died in ignorance, had it not been for this useful institution.* Great care was likewise taken to catechize and instruct the young people, who were taught in these schools, in the principles of the Chris tian * If (he reader has a desire to see the rise and progress of these useful seminaries of Christian knowledge, he will find a full and Copious account of them in the Reverend Mr. Jones's yearly accounts, entitled, " Welsh Piety," which were published four-and-twenty years successively. Al though the subject matter of these papers carry in them a coincidence of ideas, yet there is a beautiful variety, and a pleasing diversity running through the whole ; which, at the same time as they afford entertainment to the religious reader, discover the rich talents of the pious Author. VOL. IV. Z , 338 G. J O N E S. tian religion. Pie having applied to the society for prd* moting Christian knowledge, of which he was a corre sponding member, that body caused to be printed two large editions of the Welsh Bible of fifteen thousand copies each, which were sold very cheap for the benefit of the poor in Wales. He likewise composed and published several excellent and instructive books in the British language, and several in English ; and left some pieces in manuscript, which have not yet been published. He was very charitable to the poor ; and his unwearied endeavours to alleviate their distresses, will render his me mory justly dear to them* He not only fed and clothed them in considerable numbers, but was likewise a physi cian to their bodies, as well as to their souls. He had, by long study, arrived at a great proficiency in medicine; and had large quantities of drugs sent him from London, which he made up and dispensed to the poor gratis, and, through God's blessing, with remarkable success. And when he had cured any of his country people of their bodily dis tempers, and thereby gained their love and esteem, he never failed to take that opportunity to second it with pa thetic, judicious, and seasonable advice; ever exhorting them to an earnest care for their immortal souls, as being of much greater value in God's sight than their perishing bodies. He was a diligent observer of Providence: He would neglect no duty, or any lawful methods, to bring about any well laid plan for the good of mankind ; yet he had his eye upon Him, whose superintending providence over-rules all events. There were several young gentle men brought up under his care for the work of the mi* nistry, some of whom are now eminent and useful in the church. But that which gave a genuine lustre to all his other endowments, was his remarkable and uncommon hu mility. Though his friends might admire his superior -abilities and his exemplary behaviour, great usefulness, and incessant diligence, yet he himself saw how far he fell short of his high calling, and lamented his defects. He renounced self in every view ; was ever unconscious of his own shining parts ; desirous to improve, even by the meanest, and had very depreciating thoughts of his own performances. He steadily relied for final acceptance, and endless felicity, on a better righteousness than his own, even the glorious and transcendently perfect righ teousness of Jesus Christ, imputed unto him for his justi fication. This was the rock of his hope and the crown of his rejoicing, Under affliction and bodily pain (of which G. JONES. 339 which he had a great share all his life,) he was very sub missive and resigned; he would endure torturing pain Without murmuring or repining: He bowed and kissed the rod ; yea, there appeared a serenity in him* under the pressures of the deepest affliction. As his joy was not of this world, so no temporal calamity could take it from him. He was likewise of a very forgiving temper. He would often earnestly pray for his enemies, (for some such even Mr. Jones had, notwithstanding his piety and up rightness) who, through envy, endeavoured to asperse his character, and depreciate his labours. He was possessed of the spirit of candour and love in a high degree. Though, as a minister of the church of England, he had a steady attachment to her communion, yet, to persons of tender conscience dissenting from the church, he allowed the right of private judgment, and cheerfully embraced all upright and pious men of every denomination, being fully sensible, that all the godly are one in Christ Jesus. His gratitude to God was remarkable for divine favours. The following passage, which was communicated by a worthy clergyman who^was intimately acquainted with Mr. Jones, and made him a visit a few weeks before he died, is a specimen of his grateful sentiments. — ' Soon after I entered the room, (says he) and inquired after his welfare ; with a pleasing countenance, though now full of age, and upon the brink of eternity,' he said, " I must bear witness to the goodness of God.' Oh! how wonderful is the love of God to me I that I am now, even now, free from that troublesome distemper the asthma, which I was subject to in my younger days, that I could not walk the length of this room but with the greatest difficulty t How wonderful is the love of God to me ! that I am not blind, as I was for three weeks in my childhood, when I had the small-pox ; and that I am not a blind beggar going from door to door ! How wonderful is the love of Gon ! that I have such a good friend to take care of mej when I cannot help myself. How wonderful is the love of God ! that I now feel but little pain, and that I am likely to go to my grave with ease. How wonderful is the mercy of Goo ! that I can clearly see what Christ has done and suffered for me, and that I have not the least doubt of my interest in my almighty Saviour. The grand enemy of souls will attempt to disturb my peace and tranquillity; but blessed be God for his all-sufficient grace ! How wonderful is the kindness of God ! that the natural faculties of my soul are now as strong as ever ; I feel 340 G. J O N E S. I feel only a little decay in my memory." — In this grateful strain he went on as long as he was able to speak. And at another time he said, — " Blessed be God, his comforts fill my soul !" He enjoyed much of a delightful frame, and longing expectation of his everlasting rest, till nature fainted, and the tabernacle of clay was taken down. He departed this life in comfort and peace on the eighth day of April 1761, in the seventy-eighth year of his age, at the house of a worthy lady, [Mrs. Bevan of Laugharne] in which Mr. Jones had been for some time before he died. His body was interred at' his own parish church of Liad- dowror. His funeral was very solemn ; multitudes of poor and disconsolate people testified their grief by their looks, and shed abundance of tears for the loss of so good a man, in whom were united the judicious divine, the eminent preacher, the loving pastor, and the faithful friend, who had laboured amongst them forty-five years. It may be truly said of him, that few lives were more heavenly and useful, and few deaths more triumphant. His Works. The following are the titles of some of Mr, Jones's printed books, in English, viz. " I. The Platform of Christianity; being an Explanation of the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England. II. A Letter to a Clergyman, evincing the Necessity of teaching the Poor in Wales. III. The Christian Covenant, or the Bap tismal Vow, as stated in our Church Catechism, scrip- turally explained by Question and Answer. Note : This is the first part of his intended Exposition of the Church Catechism, in English. The second Part, which goes to the End of the Creed, is included in, IV. Welsh Piety : Or, An Account of the Circulating Welsh Charity Schools in Wales. These Tracts were published annually for four- and-twenty years successively, and collected into two handsome volumes in 8vo. They breathe a spirit of piety every way worthy of this Welsh Apostle, as he was some times styled. Some of those in the Welsh language may be rendered : V. A Manual of Prayers for Morning and Evening,- &c. VI. Free Advice. VII. A Call to the Throne of Grace. VIII. A Guide to the Throne of Grace. IX. A large Exposition of the Church-Cate chism, with Scripture Proofs; being a compendious Body of Divinity. X. An Abridgement of this last, for the Use of his Welsh Schools. XL A Letter upon the Sub ject of Catechizing the Ignorant. XII. The Duty of Praising God. XIII.AnExtract of " Mr. Rees Richards' Welsh Poems." By the kind assistance of many charitable persons, DAVIES. 341 persons, Mr. Jones was enabled to print very great num bers (sometimes twelve thousand, at others eight thou sand, &c. at an impression) of many of the above books, which were distributed throughout all Wales. SAMUEL DAVIES, PRESIDENT or the COLLEGE in NEW JERSEY. JL HE following account of President Davies is chiefly drawn from a Funeral Sermon, preached by his successor Dr. Samuel Finley, and from an Appendix to it by the editor of his Sermons, the late Dr. Thomas Gibbons. The Reverend Mr. Samuel Davies, late president of the college of New Jersey, was born on the 3d of November, A. D. 1724, in the county of Newcastle on Delaware. His father was a planter, who lived with great plainness and simplicity, and supported the character of an honest and pious man to his death. His mother, who was greatly distinguished for her eminent piety, some time before the conception of this only son, earnestly desired such a blessing ; and as she then had one daughter who was near five years old, she had occasion for the exercise of her faith, in waiting for the answer to her petition. In this situation, she took example from the mother of the pro phet Samuel, and Vowed a vow unto the Lord, ' that if he would indeed give her a man-child, she would devote him to his service all the days of his life.'' It may well be supposed that the parents received this child as from Gon, and that the mother especially, who had reason to look upon him as a token of the divine favour, and an express answer to her prayers, would, with the greatest tenderness,„begin the rearing of this beloved plant. As there was no sdiool in the neighbourhood, she herself taught him to read : And although he was then very young, he is said to have made such proficiency as surprised every person who heard it. He continued at home with his parents till he was about ten years old, during which time he appeared to have no remarkable im pressions of a religious kind ; but behaving himself as is common 348 DAVIES. common for a sprightly child, under the influence of pious example and instruction. He was then sent to an English school, at some distance from his father's, where he con- tinned two years, and made great progress in his learn ing ; but, for want of the pious instruction with which he was favoured at home, he grew somewhat more careless of the things of religion. It appears, that about this time of life, careless as he was, he made a practice of secret prayer, especially in the evening. The reasons (as he tells it in his diary) why he was so punctual in the evening was, that " he feared lest he should perhaps die before morning." What is farther observable in his prayers at this time is, that " be was more ardent in his supplications for being introduced into the Gospel Mi^ nistry, than for any other thing." ' About the twelfth year of his age (says Dr. Finley,) the God to whom he was dedicated by his Word and Spirit, awakened him to solemn thougbtfulness, and anxious concern about his eternal state. He then saw sufficient reason to dread all the direful effects of divine dis pleasure against sin. And so deeply imprinted was the ra^ tional sense of his danger, as to make him habitually un easy and restless, until he might obtain satisfying scrip tural evidence of bis interest in the forgiving love of God. While thus exercised he clearly saw the absolute necessity, and certain reality, of the gospel plan of salva tion, and what abundant and suitable provision it makes for all the wants of a sinner. No other solid ground of hope, or unfailing source of comfort, could he find beside the merits and righteousness of him, whom God set forth to be a propitiation far sin, through faith in his blood, Rom. iii. 25. On this righteousness he was confidently enabled to depend ; by this blood his conscience was purged from guilt ; and believing, he rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory, 1 Pet. i. 8. Yet he was afterwards exerr cised with many perplexing doubts for a long season ; but at length, after years of impartial repeated self-exa mination, he attained to a settled confidence of bis in terest in redeeming grace, which. he retained to the end. A diary, which he kept in tHe first years of his religious life, and continued to keep as long as his leisure would permit, clearly shews how intensely his mind was set on heavenly things ; how observant he was of the temper of his heart; and how watchful over all his thoughts, words, and actions. Did any censure his foibles, or juvenile in discretions ? They would have done it compassionately; had DAVIES. 343 had they known how severely he censured them himself. The tribunal daily erected in his own bosom was more critical in scrutinizing, and more impartial and severe in passing sentence, than either his friends or enemies could be. His love to God, and tender concern for perishing sinners, excited his eager desire of being in a situation to serve mankind to the best advantage. With this view he engaged in the pursuit of learning, in which, amidst many obvious inconveniences, he made surprising progress, and, sooner than could have been expected, was found compe tently qualified for the ministerial office. He passed the usual previous trials with uncommon approbation ; having exceeded the raised expectations of his most intimate friends and admirers. ' When he was licensed to preach thegospel, he zealously declared the counsel of Gob, the truth and importance of which he knew by happy experience ; and did it in such a manner, as excited the earnest desires of every va cant congregation where he was known, to obtain the happiness of his stated ministrations. But, far from gra tifying his natural inclination to the society of his friends^ or consulting his ease, moved by conscience of duty, he undertook the charge of a dissenting congregation in Virginia, separated from all his brethren, and exposed to the censure and resentment of many. But the more he was known in those parts, the more were prejudices re moved ; contempt was gradually turned into reverence ; the number of his enemies daily diminished, and his friends increased. Nor did he there labour in vain, or spend his strength for nought. The Lord, who counted him faith ful, putting him into the ministry, succeeded, his faithful endeavours, so that a great number, both of whites and blacks, were hopefully converted to the living God : For the proof of this, I must refer to his own narrative sent to the Reverend Mr. Bellamy, and by him published, and to his letters to some gentlemen of the society in London for propagating- religion among the poor. As to his natural genius, it was strong and masculine. His un derstanding was clear ; his memory retentive ; his inven tion quick ; his imagination lively and florid ; his thoughts sublime ; and his language elegant, strong, and expressive. And I cannot but presume that true and candid critics will readily discern a great degree of true poetic fire, style, and imagery in his poetical compositions ; and will grant that he was capable to have shone in that way, had his leisure permitted 344 DAVIES. permitted the due cultivation of his natural talent. His appearance in company was manly and graceful ; his beha viour genteel, not ceremonious ;" grave, yet pleasant ; and solid, but sprightly too. In a word, he was an open, conversable, and entertaining companion, a polite gentle man, and devout Christian, at once. ' It may here be properly observed, that he was chosen by the Svnod of New York, at the instance of the trustees of New Jersey College, as a fit person to accompany the Reverend Mr. Gilbert Tennent to Great Britain and Ire land, in order to solicit benefactions for the said college. As this manifested the high opinion which both the synod and corporation entertained ofhis popular talents and abilities; so his ready compliance to undertake that service, ha zardous and difficult in itself, and precarious in its conse quences, which required him to over-look his domestic connections, however tender and endearing, manifested his resolution and self-denial. How well he was qualified as. a solicitor, is witnessed by the numerous and large be nefactions he received. His services, as was meet, were gratefully accepted by his constituents ; and to the pious, generous, and public-spirited charity of the friends of re ligion and learning in Great Britain, received on that oc casion, does the college of New Jersey, in a great degree, owe all its late flourishing condition.' — These were among the numerons benefits which America received from the Parent state ; and happy would it have been for her cer tainly, and perhaps for both, if that mutually interesting tie had never been dissolved. British affection and pro testant patronage are but poorly exchanged for French in trigues and popish attentions. We may say with the poet, O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint ! It may perhaps not be amiss to mention that when he re turned home from his voyage to Great Britain, he entered again on his beloved task of preaching the gospel to his several congregations ; and he continued in this work till the year 1759, when he was elected president of the col lege of New Jersey, in the room of the late Reverend Mr. Jonathan Edwards. The college, before he came, had been in an unhappy situation, partly owing to the length of that melancholy period between the death of President Burr, and his accession, and partly to the evil dispositions and practices of a few members of the society. President Burr died in September 1757 : And although Mr. Edwards was elected a few days after, he did not take upon himself (as JD A V I E S. 345 (as was observed in his life) the government of the college till February 1758 ; and about a fortnight after took the small-pox, of which he died in March following. Mr. Davies was not initiated into his office till the latter end of July 1759 : So that the college lay under the obvious disadvantages of a bereaved condition for almost two years. But the prudent measures taken by President Davies soon surmounted these disadvantages ; so that in a few months a spirit of emulation in learning and mora lity, as had been usual, evidently characterized the stu dents of Nassau Hall. While he continued President his labours were great, and his application to study was necessarily more intense than that of his predecessors. For he came to this seminary of learning, when its knowledge, by the eminent abilities of President Burr, was advanced to a very considerable degree ; and he had just emerged from great ministerial labour in various places, wherein a common genius would have been able to have made but little improvement in academical learning. Besides, the speedy passage he made through the course of his studies, previous to his entering into the ministry, made his subsequent application the more necessary for so important a situation. He would not degrade his office, but wished to be in reality what his station supposed him, and accordingly exerted himself to the utmost. The labours of the day seemed to him rather an incentive to study than to rest in the night; for he commonly sat up till twelve o'clock, and often later, though he rose by break of day. The success was pro portionable ; for by the efforts of his genius, and by his industry, he left the college of New Jersey at his death in as high a state of literary merit as it ever had been in since its first institution. There is reason to believe, that the intense application with which Mr: Davies attended to the duties of his office was one great cause of his death. The habit of his body was plethoric : And it is not to be doubted but that his health for some years had very much depended upon the exercise of riding, to which he was necessarily obliged while he lived in Virginia, though even then he had several severe fevers, supposed to arise princi pally from his application to study in the intervals of riding abroad, and possibly to the insalubrity of that cli mate ; the heats and colds of which being so violent, and so sudden in their transitions, as to shock the human frame in a manner that Europeans cannot easily conceive. When he came to the college he scarcely used any bodily exercise5 346 DAVIES. exercise, save what was required in going from his own house to Nassau Hall, which is a space about ten roods, five or six times a-day. In the latter end of January, A. D. 1761, a violent cold seized him, and, for his relief, he was bled. The same day he transcribed for the press the sermon, which was soon after published, on the death of the late king, and the day after preached twice in the college hall ; by all which the arm in which he was bled became much inflamed, and increased his former indispo sition. On the Monday morning afterwards, at breakfast, he was seized with a cold fit, which was succeeded by an inflammatory fever, that in ten days brought on the period of his life. Although premonitions of death in the pre sent state of the world are seldom, if ever, given to man kind, and they who are disposed to interpret ordinary oc currences into such premonitions, when, by something similar in the event, those occurrences would seem as if predictive, generally discover their weakness, yet the circumstances of the death of an eminent person are com monly very acceptable to the public, and for this reason it may not be amiss to mention an anecdote, which. Mr. Davies more than once took notice of in his last sick ness. An intimate friend of his, a few days before the begin ning of the year in which he died, in conversation told him that a sermon would be expected from him on the New Year's Day ; and, among other things, happened to mention that the late President Burr, on the first day of the year wherein he died, preached a sermon on Jer. xxviii. 16. Thus saith the Lord, This year thou skalt die; and after his death, the people took occasion to say it was premonitory ; upon which Mr. Davies observed, that " although it ought not to be viewed in that light, yet it was very remarkable." When New Year's Day came he preached ; and the congregation were not a little surprised at his taking the same text of Scripture. Upon his being taken with his last sickness, about three weeks after, he soon adverted to this circumstance, and mentioned it as remarkable, that he had been undesignedly led to preach, as it were, his own funeral sermon. It is much to be la mented' that the violence of the disorder of which this excellent man died, deprived him of the regular exercise of his reason tlie greater part of the time of his sickness ; otherwise the public might have been edified by his re marks on the views of an approaching eternity, and might have received another evidence of the excellency and power of DAVIES. 347 of that religion which can support the soul, and make the otherwise gloomy prospect of death easy and cheer ful. ^ But even in his delirium his mind discovered the fa vourite objects of its concern, the prosperity of Christ's church, and the good of mankind. His bewildered brain was continually imagining, and his faultering tongue ex pressing, some expedient for these important purposes. _ Mr. Davies had been settled at Prince-Town about eighteen months ; and as he could exercise his ministry as well as preside over the college, great things might have been expected from that rare and remarakable union there was in him of what was great and good. But, alas ! in the midst of his days, (little more than thirty-six years of age) he was called away from this opening scene of ex traordinary usefulness, to the invisible world, the world of glory and blessedness. ' As evidences of the admirable spirit that dwelt in him, let me add (says Dr. Gibbons) a few paragraphs from the many letters with which, in the course of about nine years' correspondence, he has favoured me. Speaking in one of his letters concerning his chil dren, he says, " I am solicitous for them, when I Con sider what a contagious world they have entered into, and the innate infection of their natures. There is nothing that can wound a parent's heart so deep, as the thought that he should bring up children to dishonour his God here, and be miserable hereafter. I beg your prayers for mine, and you may expect a retaliation in the same kind." In another letter he says, " We have now three sons and two daughters, whose young minds, as they open, I am en deavouring to cultivate with my own hand, unwilling to trust them to a stranger ; and I find the business of edu cation much more difficult than I expected.— My dear lit tle creatures sob and drop a tear now and then under my instructions, but I am not so happy as to see them under deep and lasting impressions of religion ; • and this is the greatest grief they afford me. Grace cannot be commu nicated by natural descent : and, if it could, they would receive but little from me. I earnestly beg your prayers for them." Another epistle tells me, " As for myself, I am just striving not to live in vain. I entered the ministry with such a sense of my unfitness for it, that I had no sanguine expectations of success. And a condescending God (O, how condescending !) has made me much more serviceable than I could hope. But, alas ! my brother, I have but little, very little true religion. My advance ments in holiness are extremely small: I feel what I confess, 348 DAVIES. fess, and am sure it is true; and not the rant of excessive or affected humility. It is an easy thing to make a noise in the world, to flourish and harangue, to dazzle the crowd, and set them all agape, but deeply to imbibe the spirit of Christianity, to maintain a secret walk with God, to be holy as he is holy : this is the labour, this is the work. I beg the assistance of your prayers in so grand and impor tant an enterprise. — The difficulty of the ministerial work seems to grow upon my hands. Perhaps once in three or four months I preach in some measure as I could wish ; that is, I preach as in the sight of God, and as if I were to step from the pulpit to the supreme tribunal. I feel my subject. I melt into tears, or I shudder with horror, when I denounce the terrors of the Lord. I glow, I soar in sacred extasies, when the love of Jesus is my theme, and, as Mr. Baxter was wont to express it, in lines more striking to me than all the fine poetry in the world, ' I preach, as if I ne'er should preach again ; ' And, as a dying man, to dying men." I shall conclude my extracts (continues Dr. Gibbons) from his epistolary correspondence with part of a letter, dated Hanover, September 12, 1757. " My ever dear friend, " I am just beginning to creep back from the valley of the shadow of death, to which I made a very near ap proach a few days ago. I was. seized with a most violent fever, which came to a crisis in ta week, and now it is much abated, though I am still confined to my chamber. In this shattered state my trembling hand can write but little to you, and what I write will be languid and con fused, like its author. But as the Virginia fleet is about to sail,- and I know not when I shall have another oppor tunity, I cannot avoid writing something. I would sit down on the grave's mouth, and talk awhile with my fa vourite friend ; and from my situation, you may foresee what subjects my conversation will turn upon — Death — Eternity — the supreme tribunal. Blessed be my Master's name, this disorder found me employed in his service. It seized me in the pulpit, like a soldier wounded in the field. This has been a busy summer with me. In about two months I rode about five hundred miles, and preached about forty sermons. This affords me some pleasure in the review. But, alas ! the mixture of sin and of many nameless imperfections, that run through and corrupt all my DAVIES. 349 my services, give me shame, sorrow, and mortification. My fever made unusual ravages upon my understanding, and rendered me frequently delirious, and always stupid. But, when I had any little sense of things, I generally felt pretty calm and serene, and death, that mighty terror, was disarmed. Indeed, the thought of leaving my dear family destitute, and my flock shepherdless, made me often start back and cling to life ; but in other respects death appeared a kind of indifferency to me. Formerly I have wished to live longer that I might be better prepared for heaven, but this consideration had but very little weight with me, and that for a very unusual reason, which was this : After long trial I found this world is a place so unfriendly to the growth of every thing divine and hea venly, that I was afraid, if I should live longer, I should be no better fitted for heaven than I am. Indeed, I have hardly any hopes of ever making any great attainments in holiness while in this world, though I should be doomed to stay in it as long as Methuselah. I see other Christians, indeed, around me make some progress, though they go on with but a snail-like motion : But when I consider that I set out about twelve years old, and what sanguine hopes I then had of my future progress, and yet that I have been almost at a stand ever since, I am quite dis couraged. — O my good Master, if I may dare to call thee so, I am afraid I shall never serve thee much better on this side the region of perfection. The thought grieves me : It breaks my heart, but I can hardly hope better. But if I have the least spark of true piety in my breast, I shall not always labour under this complaint. No, my Lord, I shall yet serve thee — serve thee through an im mortal duration — with the activity, the fervour, the per fection of the rapt seraph that adores and burns. I very much suspect this deponding view of the matter is wrong, and I do not mention it with approbation, but only relate it as an unusual reason for my willingness to die, which I never felt before, and which I could not suppress. " In my sickness I found the unspeakable importance of a Mediator in a religion for sinners. Oh I I could have given you the word of a dying man for it, that that Jesus whom you preach is indeed a necessary and all-suffi cient Saviour. Indeed, he is the only support for a de parting soul. None but Christ, none but Christ. Had I as many good works as Abraham or Paul, I would not have dared to build my hopes upon such a quicksand, but only on this firm eternal rock. I am rising up, my bro ther, 350 WALKER. ther, with a desire to recommend him better to my fellow-* sinners than I have done. But, alas ! I hardly hope to accomplish it. He has done a great deal more by me already than ever I expected, and infinitely more than I deserved. But he never intended me for great things. He has beings both of my own and of superior orders that can perform him more worthy service. O ! if I might but untie the latchet of his shoes, or draw water for the service of his sanctuary, it is enoughfor me. I am no angel, nor would I murmur because I am not. My strength fails me, and I must give over : — pray for me — write to me — love me living and dying, on earth and in heaven — and hope the same from, " Dear Sir, " Your heart-united friend and servant." SAMUEL WALKER, A. B. J. HE public is indebted to the pious and reverend Mr. James Stillingfleet for a very excellent account of the life and ministry of Mr. Walker, prefixed to two volumes of his posthumous sermons on the baptismal covenant, &c. We make no apology for transcribing from this memoir, as we mean the same thing with its valuable author, the edification of men ; for which purpose few pieces, through the divine blessing, are more ably or more happily calcu-> lated. ' Those of the clergy (says the Reverend Editor) into whose hands these sheets may fall, will excuse my impor tunity, if I bespeak their more careful attention in re viewing the life and writings of Mr. Walker : Though neither eminence of station in the world, nor rare and un common attainments in human literature, will excite their admiration, for he lived and died a curate ; and though he was no way deficient in any branch of learning pertaining to his profession, yet he was engaged in too active and busy a scene of life to have leisure to acquire that extent and depth of erudition, which many men of less employ ment without superior abilities have attained to. But they will find in him excellencies of another kind, not less worthy of their regard ; they will here contemplate the life WALKER. 351 life and doctrines of one possessed in an eminent degree of the knowledge, spirit, and zeal of a primitive Christian teacher ; of one who, though poor in this world, was rich in faith and good works ; of one who had learned to es teem the reproach of Christ greater riches than the trea sures of Egypt. ' I humbly call upon, you, reverend brethren, who have taken upon you the solemn and important office of the mi nistry, to observe with what diligence and earnest concern for the salvation of the souls of men he laboured faithfully to fulfil the duties of his function. I beseech you to con sider with calm and unprejudiced minds, as a matter of the utmost importance to yourselves, whether his sentiments were not exactly agreeable to the revealed word of God, and his conduct in all things conformed to the examples of faith and patience therein recorded for our instruction and imitation. If, upon a cool and dispassionate examination, you see reason to conclude that they were, let me earnest ly intreat you to be followers of him as he also was of Christ. If such a conduct should expose you, as it did him, to reproaches and sufferings, contempt and ridicule, not only from the more openly careless and profligate, but even from some who, though they maintain a decent form of godliness, are nevertheless unhappy strangers to the life and power thereof; you will with him remember, that he, who spake as never man spake, was despised and re jected of men ; and take consolation from these encourag ing words of your blessed Master, who declared to his disciples that they would have great cause to rejoice and be exceeding glad, when men should revile them and perse cute them, and say all manner of evil of them falsely, /or his and his gospeFs sake. If, with him, you endure hardness like good soldiers of Jesus Christ, not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing", but contrariwise blessing -Js^f ybuM are nothing moved by whatever trials may assault you, from the steady and uninterrupted pursuit of your own salvation, and that of those who hear you, you will also doubtless with him be made abundant partakers of the rich consolations that are in Christ, to sweeten your pas sage through this vale of sin and sorrow : You will tri umph as he did in the immediate, prospect of approaching dissolution, and at last enter into the possession of that glorious inheritance, wherein he is now praisingthe Lord for his grace and mercy, and exulting in the fruition of eternal bliss\ I will now enter upon the task assigned to me, of drawing up from authentic memorials a succinct ac count 352 WALKER. count of tne life and ministry of the author of the follow* ing discourses. Our Author, Samuel Walker, was the youngest of seven children ; he was born at Exeter, on the 16th day of December in the year of our Lord 1714. His parents were Robert Walker of the city of Exeter, Esq. and Margaret his wife, who was the only daughter of the Reverend Mr. Richard Hall, minister of St. Ed mund's and All-hallows in that city. Robert Walker, the father of Mr. Thomas Walker, was the only son of Sir Thomas Walker, knight, who, as his ancestors had done, represented the city of Exeter in many successive parlia ments, during the reigns of King Charles I. and King Charles II. — Sir Thomas's lady was Mary, the only daugh ter of the Reverend Samuel Hall, A. M. youngest son of Dr. Joseph Hall, formerly Bishop of Exeter. Thus was our Author lineally descended from that pious, learned, evangelipal, and. truly Christian prelate, to whom he seemed to have been allied not only by proximity of blood, but likewise by affinity and similarity of senti ment ; as well as by a yet nobler relationship in grace, by being united, as a living member of the same "mystical body, to the same glorious and exalted head Christ Jesusi Mr. Samuel Walker having lived under the care of his parents till he was eight years of age, was then put to the grammar-school in Exeter, where he continued till he was eighteen, when he was sent to Exeter College, in the University of Oxford, and put under the care of the rec tor of that society, Dr. Francis Webber. Having taken the degree of bachelor of arts in the year 1737, he was ordained the latter end of that year, and appointed to the curacy of Dodescomb- Leigh, in the neighbourhood of Exeter, where he continued till August 1738. He was prevailed upon by the late Lord Rolle to undertake the charge of his youngest brother's education, and to make the tour of France with him, where Mr. Walker acquired many of those polite accomplishments which adorn the gentleman. About two years after he returned to England, and accepted the curacy of Lanlivery, in the county of Cornwall, under the Reverend Nicholas Kendall, A. M. one of the canons of Exeter, and archdeacon of Totness. On the death of Mr. Kendall, March 3, 1740, he was present ed by Walter Kendall, Esq. to the said vicarage, to hold the same during the minority of a nephew of Mr. Kendall, to whom, upon his coming of age, Mr. Walker resigned it, and at midsummer 1746, entered upon the curacy of Truro in Cornwall, Mr. Walker, during the six years he served WALlE R. 353 served Lanlivery, was always much esteemed for the de cency and regularity of his conduct, having been by a gracious providence preserved from all gross vices. His conscience, even at that time, dictated to him the necessity of constant diligence in the public duties of preaching and catechizing, though he was then unacquainted with those evangelical principles which he afterwards embraced and taught with so much success in the latter years of his mi nistry. Nor did he, destitute as he was of the light and motives which influenced his after-conduct, neglect at any season to visit his parishioners, and give them the best counsel and advicd he was able. A remarkable instance of Ris concern for them stands upon record in one of his pa pers: In the year 1744; being seized with a violent fever, he sent to a neighbouring gentleman and dictated to him a letter, which in case of his death he desired might be transcribed and given to such of his parishioners as he found neither his preaching nor his private admonitions had wrought any good effect upon, whose names he then desired the gentleman to take down: which is an evidence of his concern for the souls of those under his care. But before we proceed farther, it may not be amiss to say something concerning Mr. Walker's endowments both in body and mind. As to his person, he was tall in stature; his features were strong and comely, and his deportment such as commanded respect. An air of authority, which was natural to him, usually struck an impression of awe, at the first interview, upon those that conversed with him : But yet he conducted' himself in such a manner, that whilst with a becoming dignity he extorted even from the froward and petulant a respect due' to the ministerial character, by his affability and readiness either in communicating his own thoughts, or attending to what was said by others, he rendered himself an agreeable companion to those who were willing either to impart or to receive instruction. In his conversation he discovered an uncommon depth of thought, and delivered his sentiments with readiness of expression on any subject. His understanding was remarks ably clear; and continued so to the very last. He was pos sessed of a quick apprehension^ a solid judgment, and a retentive memory. The faculty which appeared' in a more distinguishing manner, was his methodical' exactness and propriety in the arrangement of his thoughts, and the distribution of the several parts of the subject he under took to elucidate. This is to be discerned throughout his writings. And when his friends have observed to him that VOL. IV. 2 A he 354 W A L K E R. he usually discovered great accuracy and propriety in di viding the matter of his discourses, he was wont at such times to say, that logic had been a favourite study with him from his youth. And indeed he generally took an op portunity of recommending an improvement in the art of logic to younger divines, who consulted him upon the prosecution of their studies. He cautioned them to beware of quoting scraps of Scripture as they stand by themselves, and building opinions thereon which the context would not authorise. In opposition to this slothful custom, he advised them to consider each passage, with reference to what went before and what followed after, and likewise to mark with attention what analogy it bore to the general plan of salvation by grace. This circumstance might per haps, with more propriety, have been reserved to be men tioned hereafter; but as I was speaking of his intellectual endowments, it naturally occurred to me in this place. But to return: Our Author, as it was mentioned, quit ted Lanlivery, and settled at Truro in the year 1746, at which time he was universally esteemed not only in his private character, but likewise for the regular discharge of the duties of his pastoral function. Some of my readers may perhaps ask, ' If Mr. Walker bore so respectable a character at his first coming to Truro, what occasion had he either to make any alteration in his principles, or to new-model his conduct ?' I will therefore endeavour tn give an answer to this question, which concerns a most important crisis in his life, in as clear and satisfactory a manner as I am able. It is hardly to be supposed, that a man of his strong sense and solidity of judgment should be induced to differ so entirely from his former; self, if he had not seen sufficient ground to believe that he had been totally mistaken. There never was a man less likely to be deceived by any enthusiastic impressions, of which he- was always so jealous, that/it was his constant rule to watch over the reasonings of his own mind, to compare all its conclusions with the plain sense of Scripture, and to lay no stress on any thing that was not warranted by an agreement with that unerring rule. Thus was he guarded against the delusive sallies of a lively imagination ; neither was he more likely to be misled by a deference to the au thority of others, whatever his opinion or esteem of them might be ; but what he saw for himself, required in the word of God as matter of faith or practice, that, and that only, he thought himself bound to believe and do. And he was so much afraid of leading others into that blind sub mission WALKER. 355 mission to his judgment, which he would not pay himself to any human authority, that he made it always a part V of his advice to those whom he instructed, not to give ' their assent to any thing he should tell them, because he said it, but to go to their Bible, and to search the Scrip tures, that their faith might not be built upon man's au thority, but only upon divine testimony .V It was not there fore without reason that he submitted to a change, which arose from the most deliberate and well-grounded con viction. Did religion require nothing more than exter nal decency of manners, it must certainly be allowed that he was under no necessity of reformation. But to make the necessity of such a change a little more intelligible to those of my readers who may have hitherto neglected to consult the interests, and attend to the concerns of their own immortal souls, I must take leave to remind them, that there is an essential and very important difference be tween the external professor of Christianity and the real internal Christian : That to depend upon regularity in observing the outward modes of worship, upon acts of be nevolence and kindness, upon abstaining from gross in justice and scandalous vices; that, in short, to appear out wardly blameless unto men, to make a fair shew in the flesh, and thereby to stifle and appease the admonitions and accusations of conscience, which was just our Author's former case, is the utmost height of the religion of those who take up with the form of godliness void of the power thereof; but that^the real Christian, without being less careful to walk worthy of the vocation wherewith he is called, j and to adorn his profession by the practice of every thing that is amiable and praise-worthy, is farther taught to look carefully to the state of his heart and affections, and to/ examine the principles which actuate his conduct./ ' He is filled with an habitual and earnest desire to be conformed, in the inward temper and disposition of his soul, to the image of him who bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that all who believe in him might not perish, but have eternal life. He strives to mortify all the corrupt in clinations both of the flesh and of the mind ; to renounce his own will in every instance where it rises in any degree of opposition to that of God ; to be valiant in the cause Of God anld his truth, and resolute in bearing, with meek-< ness and patience, the troubles he will unavoidably meet with for conscience-sake: Such, and so different from his former self, was our Authoi-j after this important change had taken place in him. ^ If 356 WALKER. If the reader is sensible of the difference, which I have faintly endeavoured to represent, between the real and no minal Christian, he will see the necessity of such a change, and his question will be answered to his satisfaction. The occasion of his being brought to this knowledge of himself was as follows : About a year after he came to Truro,' being in company with some friends, the subject of whose conversation turned upon the nature of justify ing and saving faith, he, as he freely owned afterwards, became sensible that he was totally unacquainted with that faith which had been the topic of the discourse, and also convinced that he was destitute of something which was of the greatest importance to his own as well as to the sal vation of the people committed to his charge. He said no thing at that time of the concern he was brought under to any one of the company, but was ever afterwards, as op portunity offered, ready to enter upon the subject. He began to discover that he had hitherto been ignorant of the nature of gospel-salvation, inattentive to the spiritual. state of his own soul and the souls of others, and govern ed in all his conduct not by the only Christian motives of love to God and man, but purely by such as were wholly sensual and selfish ; he found that he was a slave to the desire of man's esteem ; and in short, as he himself ex pressed it, that all had been wrong both within and with out. , Upon this discovery, he applied himself with dili gence and fervent prayer to the study of the Holy Scrip tures: and having by these means gained a farther insight into the nature of man's spiritual disorder, and of the re medy afforded in the gospel, this necessarily led "him to make a considerable alteration in his preaching, . both as to the choice of his subjects and the manner of his address. Convinced that the divine testimony was the only sure ground of a divine faith, he was careful to assert nothing that was not immediately drawn from the word of God, it being now his great aim and study, to use his own phrase, " to be a good Bible Divine." But of all these particulars the reader will gain a clearer knowledge from the following meditation,* written by him at his return from a meeting of neighbouring clergymen, who met to gether for the purpose of religious conversation. " Seeing the Gospel revelation is a dispensation of grace, — a remedy for a fallen creature, we must needs be sensible of those effects which the fall hath had on us, ere we can make a right use of the gospel. For my own part, I lived many years in an entire ignorance of a corrupted na ture, WALKER. 357 ture, although I had learnt to reason in a speculative and historical way upon man's degeneracy. Since it hath pleased Gon in some measure to enlighten the eyes of my understanding, I look back upon those days of blindness, and plainly see, that while I kept to an external customary decency, and in some sense regularity, I was influenced by and acted upon two hidden principles, as contrary to God as darkness is to light ; the one, a prevailing desire of re putation and being esteemed, which went through all I did, followed me into all companies, dictated all I said, led me to compliance often in direct opposition to conscience, made me above all things fearful of being thought little of, di rected all my sermons both in writing and in speaking them, and in short swayed my whole life till, I hope, the few lat ter years of it: The other, a desire of pleasure, which ren dered me slothful, indolent, and restless out of company, eager after amusements, &c. but this was so subordinate to the other, that I was always best delighted with such enter tainments as gave me opportunity of setting off any ex cellence I might seem to have, such as music and dancing. By these two the strong man kept the palace of my heart, and all was peace; and that in so strange a manner, that I do not recollect the least suspicion of my being out of the way ; for I had learnt to rest upon my freedom from the grossest vices, and keeping a sort of strictness in attending upon the forms of my ministry, and especially in engaging others to attend them. Were I to say with how many heart-felt pangsof fearanddisquietude I havebeen brought, during these latter years, to any reasonable measure of in difference about the esteem of the world, I should describe the passages which have most ingrossed my mind. The love of pleasure deeayed first: But yet I could only part with it by degrees : And, many things of that sort I conti nued in, when I had no pleasure in them, because I was ashamed to leave them." In a letter from a clergyman concerning the first ques tion in the office for the o«daining of deacons, published in 1758, Mr. Walker says of himself,^' As I was ignorant of the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, and of my want of him in all his offices, so I had not takenthe least notice of the spiritual state of others. It was to me as a thing I had no concern with, that sins of the grossest kind were com mitted on every side of me. And after I was ordained, I had no sight or thought of the condition ray parishioners were in, though I had some desire that they should come to^ church and sacrament, and not drink, swear, and the like."/ But 358 W A L K E R. But the whole of this matter is explained more at large in a letter written by him in the year 1753, to a friend in London, wherein he gives a particular account of his mi nistry at Truro from the very beginning. " In the year 1746, 1 undertook (as curate) the charge of this populous and large town, in many respects the principal town in the county. - God knows upon what unworthy views I did it, and how utterly disqualified my heart and head were for my ministerial trust. I had been then some years vicar of a neighbouring parish. But, dear Sir, how must I have suffered the poor souls there to starve and perish, while I was only possessed of historical notions of all the vitals of Christianity ; the corruption of man's nature, his misery and helplessness ; the satisfaction and sufficiency of Christ ; the necessity of a renewed mind ; the need of the work of the Spirit ! These I knew notionally, but neither felt nor taught them practically. You must own, I ought to go sorrowing to the grave upon a review of six years so passed over. Nevertheless I was thought well of, and indeed esteemed beyond most of my brethren, for my regularity, decency, endeavours to keep up external attendances, and somewhat or other in my public addresses. Would to God I were the only one enstrusted with tlie gospel in these circumstances ! It was at least a year after the kind providence of God brought me hither, ere I fell under considerable suspicions or uneasiness about myself and my manner of preaching ; when by the frequent con versation of a Christian friend, (verily the first person I had met with truly possessed of the mind of Christ) I became sensible all was wrong within and without. My 'uneasi ness was rather abiding than violent, possibly because my life had been free of gross sins, having been used in a good measure to follow the direction of my conscience, and the change wrought upon me was slow, till under a variety of means I was brought to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Christ Jesus." In the beginning of the above account, our Author re flects with concern upon the unworthy views which pre vailed upon him to undertake the curacy of Truro. In or der to acquaint the curious reader what these unworthy views were, I shall here interrupt the narrative to inform him, that in many private conversations he often told me, that he was not actuated by the least measure of a ministe rial spirit at the time of his first coming to Truro ; but that his only motive in going to live in tiiat populous town, in preference to any other place in the county, was the greater resort' Walker. 359 resort of company, and that he might take his pleasure at the assemblies, and particularly in dancing. Such was the bent of his inclinations, before he was a partaker of the grace of God in truth. He was naturally a lover of plea sure more than a lover of God. The letter goes on ; " As this work was going forward in myself, the people were made partakers of the effects of it; by and by I be gan to deal with them as lost sinners, and beat down for mality and self-righteousness, and to preach Christ. The fruit of this, by the mighty working of the Spirit, quickly appeared. It was a new way to them. They were sur prised and grew angry, not without an evident fear resting upon them, and an interesting curiosity to hear me again of this matter. I have reason to judge, thatalmost all of them have been one time or other awakened more or less, al though I fear many of them have rejected the counsel of God against themselves. But, in the mean- time, some more sensibly pricked in their hearts, came to mc inquir ing what they must do ? The number of these continually increasing, I thought my utmost diligence was needful to wards them. They were universally ignorant- in the gros sest degree. I was glad to give them as many evenings in the week as I could spare, appointing them to;attend me, after their work was over, at my house. As there was no knowledge of divine things amongst them, and in conse quence thereof they were incapable of instructing one ano ther; and withal, as they were marked out by reproach, and bad every art tried upon them to draw them away, they needed from me both instructions and cautions, which I was obliged for these reasons to giVe them, either singly, or by two or three together. This I have continued to do to the present time, with no variation but that of using the help of those who had made any progress, to watch over beginners. I had from the first engaged them frequently to converse together, and pray with one another, as I could put them together; and though the far greater part of them fell away from their awakenings, yet when a number -of them seemed to be somewhat confirmed, they of their own accordmet together in larger bodies in their own houses, to read God's word, pray, sing psalms, Sec. This became pretty much practised about two years ago, and herein I have left them to themselves, only giving them directions as need required. By the grace of God, the number of those whose conduct seemed to express a lively faith, be gan now to be something considerable, for which reason about the latter sud of last summer, it was thought advise-. able 360 W A L K E R. able to form them into a religious society, which, after some delays, was effected in the beginning of February. The number of members is now upwards of seventy. [It was afterwards considerably increased.] While I was delibe rating about .this society, which was to consist of such only as gave hopes of as edifying example, it was thought pro per to call together as many others as were willing, in my house ouce a-week, ,as a sort of nursery for the principal society;: And by talking and praying with them we seem to have found some establishment among those who are weaker. Thisfiath been the progress of the work among ourselves, wherein I have reason to believe we have been much forwarded by the blessing of the Spirit upon a free and practical exposition of the church catechism, which I have, after my poor measure, made by word of mouth the Sunday evenings of half the year, an hour after service. I •have to add farther; as thait which I doubt not will give you pleasure, that not long after the commencement of this work at Truro, several clergymen of .us in the neigh bourhood associated ourselves under the name of the Par sons' Club, for mutual consultation ,and direction, in order to promote the great e*d of our ministry." The pious Editor gives a full. accouut of the nature and institution of these societies, and states at large many truly edifying particulars concerning Mr. Walker's indefatigable labours, both with the people committed to his charge, and with soldiers and others, whom Providence placed in his way: After which he adds : ' Thus were the labours of this faithful minister of Christ employed in superintending the flock more immediately committed to his care, in giv ing his advice to those who came to consult him frounneigh- bouring places, and hi cultivating a spirit of religion among those who seemed tobemore accidentally throwninhis way. To obviate one groundless calumny with which the care less and lukewarm have often been apt to charge a life of serious godliness, as if it gave encouragement to the ne glect of secular business, it may not be improper to remark, that at the same time that he was earnest in pressingit upon all that came to him for advice, to seek the kingdom of God and his righteousness, as the one thing needful, he never forgot to exhort persons of all conditions and occu pations in life, to apply themselves with diligence to the duties of their respective callings : Telling them, as the strongest argument that could be urged, that the prosperi ty and tranquillity of their souls would he more effectually promoted by a careful and industrious attention to the bu siness WALKER. 361 siness of their station, than by devoting themselves wholly to the study of religion, to the neglect .of those employ ments, which the place that God had assigned them in the world required at their hands. The tru,th of which observation I have heard confirmed by the experience of those who have hearkened to his counsel in this particular. The twenty-fifth sermon upon the catechism, which was preached at Truro on the 27th of April in the year 1760, and was the last discourse delivered by our Author in pub lic, deserves our particular notice. The subject is most awful and interesting, and themanner of treating it awak ening and affecting. Having in some of the preceding lec tures considered in a practical view the resurrection of Christ as head of liis body the church, his ascension into the highest heavens to prepare a place for his people, and his session at the right hand of God as the great Advocate and Intercessor, pleading continually before the Father the propitiatory sacrifice of his obedience unto death ; in this he represents him at his second coming as universal Judge, summoning all mankind before his righteous tribunal. The solemn transactions of the day of judgment being, as should seem to us accidentally, "the subject of Mr. Wal ker's last address to his parishioners, it gave him an oppor tunity of speaking to them in such a manner, that, if he had been actually apprized that it should be his last ser mon, he could not have taken his leave of them more -pro perly. After a very serious and earnest expostulation with the careless, idle, pleasure-loving sinner, he concludes with delivering as it were his dying words to a congregation, among whom he had ministered so long a time with so much zeal and assiduity, in this remarkable passage : " Well, we shall all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ together. There the controversy between me calling upon you by the terrors of the Lord, and you de termined to abide in your sins, will be decided. There it will appear, whether your blood will be upon your own heads for your obstinate impenitency, or upon mine for not giving you warning. Christ will certainly either ac quit or condemn me on this behalf; and if I should be ac quitted herein, what will become of you ? I tremble to. think, how so many words of mine will be brought up against you on that" day. What will you say, what will you answer, how will you excuse yourselves? O Sirs, if you will not be prevailed upon, you will eternally curse the day that you knew me, or heard one word from my mouth. Why, why, why will you die, with so aggravated a destruc tion? 362 WALKER. tion ? 0 think of the judgment, think of it, and you. will not be able to hold it out against your own souls. May the Lord incline you to do so ; may he cause this word to sink, deep into your hearts ; may he shew you all your danger; and with an outstretched arm bring you out of the hands of the devil, and translate you into the glo rious kingdom of his dear Son, to his own glory and your unspeakable happiness in the day of the appearance of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Even so, most mighty God and most merciful Father, for the same Jesus Christ's sake." With these striking words did this faithful servant of Christ finish his public ministry. It has been made evi dent, from the account of his constant attention to the du ties of the sacred office, that he spared no pains in using his most diligent endeavours for the promoting of God's glory and the edifying the people committed to his charge : It will now appear from a few selected extracts, taken from his own papers, that he dictated no rule to others which he did not conform to himself; but that an intimate know ledge of his own heart, and a deep experience of an in ward work of divine grace, enabled' him to direct others with such peculiar skill under their several trials in the way of salvation. Being himself converted, not to a notional assent remaining in the head, but to a lively operative faith working by love in the deep ground of the heart, he knew after what manner to strengthen his brethren. A Specimen of Mr. Walker's Experiences, and of his watch fulness over his own heart. Sunday, September 17, 1752. " Thursday night last I was visited with a sudden and violent disorder, which in a few minutes brought my life into danger. Such was God's good pleasure. It was his fatherly goodness hereby to give nie a more practical and interesting sense of death and eter nity. Hereby he hath taught me the great importance of (¦very hour I live; I can say now, I feel it with a more ac tive impression. May 1 number my restored days wisely! nor may the things of this life ever more separate eternal things from before my eyes ! may I live to his glory, who hath thus lengthened my days ! Remember, my soul, in the confusion of the hasty hour, how little thou couldst do ; just no more than present a broken resignation of thy self into the hands of thy heavenly Father. Remember how thou wast oppressed with a spiritual insensibility; all lite objects of faith how dead and flat; how withouteither fear, or hope, or trust in any degree of lively exercise ! Ah, WALKER. 363 Ah, my soul ! the dying hour is not for the work of reli gion, for gaining an interest in Christ. This must be the business of my healthy days. In these I must seek to hum ble my soul, renounce myself, cast off all dependence on myself, and on every thing, which by the grace of God is wrought in me, and to work out my salvation drawn by the love of Jesus to yield myself to him the purchase of his blood. Now I most seek peace in believing on the Son of God, and prove that I have a title to justification through him by all the evidences of his Spirit working in me. Keep me in this faith, thou Mediator, with whom I do heartily trust my soul. Yea, increase this faith in me. And let me know that I belong to thee by the sanctification of my corrupt nature more and more. Sunk as I am into the grave and death of sin, let me hear the powerful voice of thy word, and feel thy quickening influences upon my heart, and come forth, and live in holy obedience to thy call. Yea, let me live no more to myself. Thou hast given me warning, a sufficient summons to be ready, that by and by I must be away. Let me live to thee, that thou mayest acknowledge me at thy judgment:-" Sunday, March 4, 1753. " By the endurance and good ness of God I am alive this day, and have been enabled without disturbance to renew the covenant of grace. Praise be to God, my mind was clear, my conscience quiet, and with due deliberation, and without distraction I was before the Lord. I must bless him also that the ordinance was with comfort. Faith seemed in exercise more than usual to see, receive, and in some measure to appropriate Christ to me in communicating. Though always I have cause to complain of the hardness of my heart, yet now I could in some sort mourn and love. I found heartiness in my purposes of serving the glory and interest of God in Christ, and was forward to make a full surrender of myself, depending upon divine grace. It has been a day with me ' signally marked with divine favour. Notwithstanding the insensibility and unbelief of my heart, I am returned re joicing. What now shall I render unto the Lord ? It may be, some greater trial than ordinary is at hand. Let me be mindful therefore of the vows I have this day made. Thy peculiar suit, my soul, was that pride might no longer have dominion over us ; that the loss of men's opinion and esteem might not fright on one side, nor the approbation of friends puff us up on the other. We sued also for a more enlarged spirit of love, that those who speak evil against us, or use us ill for the work's-sake, may be enter tained 364 WALKER. tained with compassion and forgiveness, without resent ment or hatred. We sued for this charitable mind and de meanour towards those mistaken persons, who, prejudiced to their own opinions, represent us as not preaching the word of God soundly. Lord, it is thy pleasure to try me with the reproaches of the wanton and careless; and with the misapprehensions of those who, having conceived unsafe evidences of faith, blame me that I speak not as they do, and ignorantly oppose themselves. Lord, keep me in a charitable temper to endure with meekness the out rages of the one and the prejudiced mistakings of the other of these, betwixt whom my lot is fallen to me ! We in- treated also thy blessing on our society of ministers. Grant, O God, tiiat it may be a blessed instrument of reviving true practical religion. Keep us from pride, and debate, and jealousy ! grant us to watch over one another in love ! and be thou ever with us enlarging all our hearts with zeal, constancy, and charity, and mortifying the world and our lusts continually ; that as we are separated to the mi nistry, we may mind this one thing, to feed the sheep. And to me, O my Gob, give all needful direction, that I may speak boldly and prudently among them, humbly and affectionately, without pride or resentment. See now, my soul, the work before thee; but shrink not : Remem ber haw God hath visited thee this day. Be strong and of good courage, and yet be fearful lest thou let any thing ©f all this slip. Thou great Shepherd, leave me not. ^AmenJ" Tuesday, April 27, 1756. " I have found myself this day «reatly exercised by fear of men. I would, I hope, be, and live wholly to God's glory, and act as his interests re quire ; but I experience a lurking desire of man's esteem mixing with the natural timidity of my constitution, which makes me inwardly draw back from any approach ing trial, in which I am to look in the face persons of an angry and violent temper. It is to the free and mighty in— fiHence of the Spirit of God I owe it, that this fear hath not dominion, and that, in despite of it, I am enabled to persist in the ways of Gon and the discharge of my duty, in opposition to this secret enemy. Yet I have reason to suspect, that though it doth not hinder me from doing, yet it cramps me in doing. I desire to wait with patience, to be humbled, to be thankful for the measure of liberty be stowed on me, and to believe always that his grace is suffi cient for me. How hard is it to be angry and sin not ! as much as self mixes, it is sinful. I think, not more than twice WALKER. 363 twice in my life have I been angry without plainly seeing sin. I suppose true gospel Zriko<; [zea'll does not ruffle the temper, nor leave any perturbation behind it. It must be perfectly consistent with meekness, and is sinful, if not accompanied with compassion : He looked about upon them uilh indignation, being grieved at the hardness of their hearts. Surely our zeal and meekness bear proportion to our humility. I have most zeal and least wildfire when I am most humbled in the sense of my sins. Lord, make me humble ! Lord, keep me bumble !" Tuesday June 15, 1756. " I know not how many evil tempers I have found working this day, particularly con ceit, when conversing with . I have been kept from trials this day, so can say nothing what degrees of preva lence I am under of fear of men. I have come very short of that actual communion with God by meditation and ejaculation that I wish for." Monday, June 28. " Sloth and business have prevented me on the days past from continuing my journal, but I am sensible of the want of it. I cannot walk closely with God without daily watchfulness and examination. Yes terday's sermon related to a- sense of the sinfulness of sin, a* the great principle on which conversation stands contradis tinguished from servile fear. I cannot be so clear- as I wish on this point. — In private exercises I find a desire to serve God, and wish to see him glorified: But my heart I. find exceedingly selfish in the world.— This day on the road to — , I enjoyed useful meditation two hours ; my heart much drawn up to God, and approving his service and presence: But in the remainder of my journey I was con fused, and sometimes found myself carried away by carnal fears and proud reasonings. -I resolved to be silent in the company I was to meet, if I might not be serviceable, and have found this evening the need and difficulty of being so: God grant me the spirit of meekness and charity." Wednesday, June 30. " I find it exceeding difficult to hold communion with God when not more immediately engaged in ministerial duties. Conversation this day has- been rather about religion than' religious. I want more of Christ's temper of meekness, having reason to suspect myself too solicitous when blamed unjustly. I see how vain it is to think of gaining Christ without forsaking all. Lord, make me more and more dead to the world." Monday, July 5. " I was striving much in prayer last night and this morning for a sense of the sinfulness of sin. My heart seems to have been quickened by it through the day, 366 W A L K E R.I day, to keep close with God : Yet how often have I for gotten him! O that I could love him more! I have been kept pretty much from fear respecting an approaching trial, being possessed with desire of professing Christ, with some confidence in his protection, and with compassion toward gainsayers. I have seen this day how needful it is to watch against a party spirit, and to love all that love Christ, leaving them to their own opinions, and to avoid love-de stroying debates. I was rather affected than piously de vout in the prayers at a funeral. — I ought to guard against a sort of desponding thoughts from external circumstances, and from carnal proud reasonings in my own heart." Wednesday, July 7. " Frame disordered at waking, though otherwise when I lay down. My comfort is, my salvation depends not on me, but Christ the same yester day, to day, and for ever, though I am so changeable. — Do I choose God for my portion? If so, why do I forget him so often, and think of him so coldly?" Monday, July 26. " On reflection, I see my safest way is sitting down and abiding in the place I am called to. When absent from it, though in the way of duty, I do not so well retain the possession of my own mind. — This day I observed at waking, as I have often done, that the application of my heart to think on God was rather by force, it was not easy to keep him in view, though I had so- many causes of thankfulness. — I have been engaged all this day in some needful service, yet find myself apt to seek my own pleasure even in doing God's work. I ought to be more sensible of the importance of my office, and to de pend upon and pray most earnestly for the influences of God's Spirit on myself and labours. To be humble in the sense of my vileness, and to believe the sufficiency of Christ, I find the two hardest things I have to attain." Tuesday, August 10. " This club-day. I have not found such desire after it as formerly. This is a great' fault. I am not thankful as J ought for such friends and opportunities : Nor do J. meet them with suitable desires of receiving and communicating good. I should regard the club as a distinguished blessing, and as laying me under pe culiar obligations, and be continually influenced by the expectations which the world has from us. God has re moved some outward trials' I have been under, yet I would remember that Christ is our peace." Wednesday, August 11. " Apt to wander in family prayer. My state is of very low advancement ; more espe cially this appears by the unfrequent applications of my heart WALKER. 367 heart to God ; a true spirituality of temper I suspect I need for this reason, and that suspicion demands my strictest inquiry. — Last week, when in trials, I seem to have been better than this when out of them : Let me inquire* whe ther I am driven to Christ by necessity, or drawn by love?" " Monday, August 23. " The devotions of this morning were shortened by the expectation of business. Somewhat like this often happens, and demands my greater attention. — Great experience this day of a corrupted heart; though not. signally overcome, yet not watchful as I ought." Tuesday, August 24. " Public duty encroached on the morning's private exercise. — Had this day for some hours a peculiar fear of falling away : I observed the actings of faith were weak, yet could not get them lively : Seemed, however, determined for Gou in Christ. — I am certainly influenced by a principle which makes me not unwatchful against sin, and not altogether unready to duty: But is it from the right motive, faith working by love ? — Greatly wanting in thankfulness." Jan. 6, 1757. " I am well satisfied, the desire of esteem or fear of men hath too much influence on my conduct. Lord, turn the fear of men's faces into a love of their souls." We now come to finish this account of Mr. Walker's life and ministry; by shewing his behaviour during his last ill ness, and what support he found from religion while in the near views of approaching death. This, it will be con fessed on all hands, is a scene in which the truth and since rity of a man's religion is put to the test. To disarm the king of terrors of every appearance of horror, and to wel come his summons as a call from a vain and miserable world to a world of endless and unspeakable felicity, is the sole property of a firm faith in the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, according to his abundant mercy, hath begotten us again into a lively hope by the resurrec tion of Jesus Christ from the dead. Now, as our Author perceived his soul to be greatly strengthened and established in grace the nearer he advanced towards eternity, so will the attestation of this matter of fact, which was ground of comfort to himself, be to others a special confirmation of the truths he maintained, when they are assured that un der the influence of them he finished his days in peace, and committed his soul and body into the hands of God, without the least doubt of being received into an happy immortality. After the 27th of April in the year 1760, as was before observed, Mr. Walker was disabled from per forming any farther service in the public congregation. At 368 W A L K E R. At this time he was seized with a fever, which confined him several weeks to his room at Truro: When he had in some degree recovered- his strength after the abatement of the fever, a cough still hung upon him, for which, as it i foreboded a consumption, he was ordered to Bristol for the use of the waters in the month of August. Having staid two months there with little or no benefit, he went in the autumn to Kington in Warwickshire, with an intention of spending some time with the Reverend Mr. Talbot, vicar of that parish, and afterwards of St. Giles's in Reading ; but, a bad season of the year coming on, he was ordered back to the Bristol wells. There he continued till the middle of December, when it was judged proper that he should be removed to some dry healthy spot in the neigh bourhood of London, where he could^enjoy the benefit of a good air. Upon this, having before been invited by the Earl of Dartmouth to try the air at Blackheath, he went thither a few days before Christmas. Being situated in a place so near London, he had an opportunity of having the best advice; but it was not in the power of medicine to stop the progress of his disease. It is worthy our notice to observe how remarkably the providence of God raised up friends to supply his several wants throughout his ill ness. After resigning the vicarage of Talland, the curacy of Truro was the whole of his income. The pay was but small, and his expences were necessarily increased to a great degree by a long continued sickness. But he had re signed himself into the hands of God, and found the pro mise verified, that he never will forsake those [Psal. xxxvii. 25. Matth. vi. 33.] who commit themselves to the care of his fatherly protection. Being in the house of the Earl and Countess of Dartmouth, he had all the assistance that his critical, situation could require. Presents also were conveyed to him from his friends at Truro, and at other places, whose love to him was such, that they were ready to have furnished him with whatever supplies of money he might have stood in need of. And to the honour of those gentlemen of the faculty who were consulted, it must be recorded, that as soon as they were severally ap prized of the circumstances of their patient, they not only gave their attendance gratis, but seemed to take delight in offering him their service. ^ It appeared to be ordered, by a peculiar appointment of Divine Providence, that Mr. Walker, after he had finish? d his ministry at Truro, should abide a considerable time in the large and populous city of Bristol, and that he should afterwards WALKER. 369 afterwards spent the last seven months of his life in the neighbourhood of the great metropolis. Several serious persons, both of the clergy and laity j in artd about London and Bristol, visited him frequently in his illness, to whom his conversation was blessed in a very singular manner. By his knowledge and experience he was eminently qua lified to lead others to an acquaintance with their own hearts, and to the discovery of the comforts and privileges of the gospel, as well as to instruct ministers in the faith ful discharge of their important office ; so that, when bo dily weakness prevented him from preaching any more in public, by his talent in conversing, in which he remark ably excelled, he was made instrumental in promoting the glory of Gon, and the good Of many souls. He con-* tinued to the very last, whenever his strength would en able him to speak, to give suitable exhortations to those that were about him. With regard to his own experiences in this last and lan guid season of his life, of which he frequently spake to those about him, he complained in general of great dead- ness of spiritual affections, and of the absence Of all sensi ble impressions of joy and delight in the contemplation of the exceeding love of God towards him, and of his ap proaching happy change. As he disavowed in principle any dependence upon religious frames as a recommenda tion to God's favour, thinking it a scheme whieh savours' too much of self-righteousness, and had learnt to cast his whole confidence upon the promises of God, freely offer ed in the gospel of Christ, to sinners convinced of their guilt and helplessness; so he was quite contented and' easy in his mind under the want of those sensations. But it id reasonable to suppose that the coldness and deadness of his affections were in a great measure, if not wholly, owing to the extreme weak state of his body. An inward burning fever, attended with profuse night sweats, had wasted his vital strength ; a stubborn cough continually hung upon him ; neither his food nor his medicines did him any ser vice; a general languor oppressed his whole frame j and his spirits were reduced to a very low state. At those times when the powers of nature failed him most, he was wont to breakout into such expressions as these: ".What a miserable creature' should I be in my present situation, if I could not look upon God as my Cdvenant-GoD, my reconciled Father in Christ? The weakness of my body and of my spirits deprives me of all joyous sensations; but my faith in God's promises, I bless the Lord, is firm and VOL. IV. 2 B unshaken. 370 WALKER. unshaken. What though my loss of strength an d spirits robs me of all comfortable communion with God, the promises are not therefore made void. Abraham be lieved, and it was counted to him for righteousness. I believe that God is faithful and true in all his declara tions of mercy, which I have sought for, though I can not now feel the impressions of his love." Upon seve ral occasions he was heard to say, " I bless God, 'that upon the closest review of my life for these ten years past, I can see evident marks of my having lived with a single eye to the glory of God, in opposition to the selfishness of my nature." And likewise, " The nearer I advance towards eternity, the more I am confirmed in the truth of the doctrines which I have preached and published. I am sure they will stand the test of the last day. Conviction of sin, original as well as actual, is the grand inlet to all saving knowledge ; where this is want ing, the superstructure will not stand ; but if this foun dation be deeply laid, the heart will then welcome the glad tidings of salvation." * Upon the whole we may observe, that under a continu ed absence of all sensible comfort he possessed his soul in the most settled, abiding, solid peace, never admitting the least doubt of his acceptance with God. Nothing was more remarkable in him than the constant, even, and un disturbed tranquillity which he maintained under the fre quent changes that attended his disorder. It sometimes happened, that upon an alteration of his medicines there appeared hope of his recovery: At such times he was ob served to take delight in the prospect of returning to the exercise of his ministry among his people at Truro, of whom he never spake without evident tokens of singular pleasure and satisfaction in them; sometimes not without tears of affection, and tender concern for the welfare of their souls. When these short-lived hopes were vanished, and the dangerous symptoms of his disorder returned, no alteration appeared in the frame of his mind: He only turned his views to the awful scene that called for his more immediate attention, and spake with equal delight of the joys reserved beyond the grave for the faithful ser vants of the living God. It never could be discovered, that»he desired to live or wished to die.- His soul was all submission to the will of his heavenly Father, and his whole concern seemed to be, to preserve that temper of mind, wherein he might have said with St. Paul, None of us livcth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. For whe ther WALKER. 371 ther we live, we live unto the Lord, and whether we die, we die unto the Lord : Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's. His patience wras not worn out, but strength ened and increased, by the continuation and increase of his sufferings.^ If at any time, which seldom happened, an ex pression had escaped his lips that seemed to savour of fret- fulness or impatience, he was observed to check and re prove himself: At the last, indeed, patience appeared to have had her perfect work, for nothing of this kind was dis covered in him for some time before his death. What he endured within the last six weeks from an inward parch ing heat, is almost inexpressible. His only apprehensions under these trying circumstances were, lest his patience should not hold out, and that he should wish for a release sooner than God should see fit to grant it. But the Lord was pleased to preserve in him a spirit of resignation to the last. To this view of his behaviour in this his last scene I shall subjoin two letters, written by him to his nearest and most^intimate friend at Truro. The former is dated fifteen days, the latter but five, before his death. " My dearest, most faithful Friend, " My disorder, though by no means affording to myself the least prospect of recovery, yet seems to affect me at present more with weakness than with that violent heat, which rendered me incapable of all thought. I can now, blessed be God, think a little, and with what comfort do I both receive your thoughts and communicate mine to you ! O ! my dear friend, what do we owe to the Lord for one another ! more than I could have conceived, had not God sent me to die elsewhere. We shall have time to praise the Lord when we meet in the other world. I stand and look upon that blessed world with an established heart: I see the way prepared, opened, and assured to me in Jesus Christ: And for ever blessed be the name of God, that I can look upon death, that introduces that glorious scene, without any kind of fear. I find my grand duty still is submission as to time and circumstances. Why should not I say to you, that I find nothing come so near my heart, as the fear lest my will should thwart God's in any circumstance ; here I think I am enabled to watch and prayin some poor measure. Well, my dear friend, I am but stepping a little before you. You will soon also get your release, and there we shall triumph for ever in the name, and love, and power of the Lamb. Adjeu. Your's in the Lord Jesus Christ for ever. Amen. Blackheath, July 4, 1761. " S. W." " My mt WALKER. " My dearest Friend, " With great confusion of thought, I have no doubts, great confidence, great submission, no complaining. The great thing, which I always feared, is, I believe, coming upon me, that I am coming into a diarrhoea, confined to my bed. and have no strength. As to actual views of the joys that are coming, I have none, but a stedfast belief of them in Christ. What I have found in myself for months, both as to the review of time past, and the present work ings of the Spirit, has left me without all doubt of my union with Christ, &c. Blackheath, July 14, 1761. " S. W." On the Tuesday morning he dictated the above letter, for at that time he was not able to hold a pen in his hand. A few hours after, the symptoms of his approaching dissolution began to shew themselves, his throat rattled, a cold clam my sweat ran down his cheeks, and the muscles of his arms and face appeared to be convulsed with frequent spasms and contractions. His heart, to use his own expression, seemed to him to be tied round with thongs. He still spake of these presages of his death with the utmost calmness and composure, and begged of his friends about him that they would pray for him, that he might hold out with patience unto the end. It being observed by one of them sitting on his bedside, what a blessing he enjoyed in his present situa tion, that his soul was ripe for heaven and eternity, he inter rupted him with saying, " That the body of sin was not yet done away, but that he should continue a sinner to the last gasp, and desired that he would pray for him as such." Thus lowly and humbly did he think of himself, even un der all his attainments in grace. In this lingering manner he continued the five or six last days without any other vi sible alteration in his body than gradually growing weaker. But notwithstanding all his former deadness and dryness of soul which he complained of, it pleased God to shed abroad in his heart a lively sense of his love and favour, and a strong foretaste of heavenly joy, before he took him to the enjoyment of himself. /On the Thursday, starting up from an apparent fit of dozing, he took hold of his nurse by the hand, who was sitting near him, and uttered this rapturous expression: " I have been upon the wings of the cherubim; heaven has in a manner been opened to me: I shall be soon there myself, and am only sorry that I cannot take you with me." The next day, while a young cler gyman, who came from a distant part of the country to visit his departing friend, was standing near his bedside, he lift WALKER. 373 lift up his eyes in a manner that bespoke a joy more than words could utter, and addressed him thus : " Oh ! my friend, had I strength to speak, I could tell you such news, as would rejoice your very soul : I have had such views of heaven — But I am not able to say more."/ On the Satur day, his voice faultered exceedingly, and his head seemed rather to ramble. We scarce imagined he could have lived out the day, and indeed had he not been a remarkably strong made man, it is not conceivable that he could have supported it so long under so severe and fatiguing an ill ness. • He passed the night however in extreme weakness; and about nine o'clock the next morning, it pleased God to release him from all his sufferings. The evident concern of some of his particularfriends, upon the increase of his dis order, sometimes affected him; on which account, think ing, it is probable, that the sight of his last agonies might give them pain, he one day said to a servant that attended him, " I would I might slip away, when nobody but you should be present;" and so indeed it fell out, for just when all except that person had left the room, not apprehending him to be So very near his end, he turned his head aside on the pillow, and nature appearing to be quite exhausted, without any other token than a sigh something longer, and more deep than usual, his soul was delivered from the pri son of the body. He departed this life in a lodging-house at Blackheath, to which he had been removed a few weeks before, on Sunday, July 19, 1761, in the forty-eighth year of his age, and entered upon his Sabbath of eternal rest. It was his particular direction, that his body should be in terred in the church-yard of the parish in which he died. In compliance therewith he was buried in the church-yard of Lewisham in the county of Kent. The following table exhibits a view of his Works made public. " I. A Sermon on 1 Samuel xx. 3. at the funeral of a young man that was drowned as he was bath ing on Sunday, June 3, 1753. II. The Christian, a set of practical Sermons, 1755. III. A Sermon on Amos iv. 12. preached at Truro, 1756. IV. A Letter from a Clergy man concerning the first question in the office for the or daining of Deacons, 1758. V. Regulations and Helps proposed for promoting religious conversation among Christians. VI. A Discourse on the Necessity- of being acquainted with our fallen State. VII. A Familiar Cate chism, 1759. VIII. A Short Instruction and Examina tion for the Lord's Supper. IX. A Treatise on Con vie tion of Sin. X. A Familiar Introduction to thCknow- ledge 374 GUYSE. ledge' of ourselves, 1761." Several other small Tracts were published monthly by himself and other Ministers. Of the abovementioned writings, The Christian, a small volume consisting of eleven Sermons, passed through a se cond and third edition in the years 1756 and 1759, with a recommendatory Preface written by the late Reverend Mr. Thomas Adam, rector of Wintringham in Lincolnshire. JOHN GUYSE, D.D, _l HIS eminent and excellent Divine was born at Hert ford, in or about the year 1680, of very pious and wor thy parents, and blessed with a careful and strictly reli gious education. It pleased God to call him very early by his grace ; insomuch that he was admitted a member of the congregation of Protestant Dissenters in that town, at fourteen years of age. His views also were, very early, towards the work of the ministry ; accordingly, all his youthful years were spent in close application to study, under the direction of several worthy and able instructors, first in the learned languages, and then in the several branches of academical erudition. He entered upon the ministry in his twentieth year; and Providence soon open ed a door for his public ministrations at Hertford, as an assistant to the aged and worthy Mr. Haworth. Soon af ter this settlement, Mr. Haworth was removed by death, and the congregation united in their call of him, to be their stated minister. This, with great reluctance and self-dif fidence, (after a considerable time) he was encouraged to undertake: And here God was with him; and, for many years, he continued his labours among them with a great de gree of acceptance and success. During this situation, in 1718, he preached that excellent occasional discourse, on the " Evil of Self-seeking," in a meeting, of ministers at Royston ; the publication of ' which was extorted from him. For some time the congregation was not a little exposed to the attempts of some who were deluded by the Arian sentiments; wherefore, though Mr. Guyse had several pressing invitations to leave Hertford, (particularly when the Reverend Mr. Nesbitt was incapacitated for fur ther work) which were greatly to his temporal advantage; yet he declared, he saw it clearly to be his duty to abide with his flock, as long as they were in any danger from that GUYSE. 375 that quarter. He did so ; and God honoured him with the greatsst success in his diligent endeavours for confirm ing them in the truth. It would have been happy if other ministers in the dissenting line had been as faithful as our Author against this Arian heresy, which rages like a pesti lence among many of their congregations, and especially in the west of England. If ever there was a time, when they ought to contend earnestly for the faith delivered to the saints, when they should maintain the proper Divini ty of the great Redeemer, when they should press upon the heart the doctrine of the blessed Trinity, and all the glorious chain of truths which are connected with it, it is Now. For now, above all the times which have passed over the dissenting congregations, are they threatened with a torrent of such dangerous and pernicious errors, as can not but overwhelm those who espouse them, and also ex terminate the very vitals of experimental religion (as they have ever done) from those establishments, who have maintained them. A few years after, Providence clearly directed Mr. Guyse's remove to London. He had, for some, time past, enjoyed but a very imperfect measure of health ; his stated labours, every Lord's day, were too much for his bodily strength ; an hectic feverish habit constantly succeeded the work of the Sabbath, and that to a degree which threatened his being wholly laid aside. His physician and friends rightly judged, that a change of air and situation, and the lessening his labours, by the help of an assistant, might, with the. divine blessing, be a means of improving his health : At the same time the death of the Reverend Mr. Matthew Clarke made way for a call to succeed him as pastor of his congregation. He thought it his duty now to remove ; and he has often mentioned the argument which aworthysenior in the ministry (the Reverend Mr. Bragge) used with him upon this occasion : It was to this effect, ' There are seve ral reasons for a minister's lawfully leaving his people, and this is certainly one, when, upon full trial, his labours are too great for his health : Christ does not call his servants to kill themselves in his service : He is too good a Master to require it, and too great a one to need it.' Here it pleased God to crown his labours with success : His sphere of ac tivity and usefulness was now greatly enlarged, and he was enabled to exert himself to most useful and important pur poses. By a uniform, religious, and friendly carriage, he rendered himself dear to his brethren in the ministry, and highly valued and esteemed by all. His reputation as a scholar, 376 GUYSE. scholar, Christian, and divine, was widely spread, and his worth was generally known: Accordingly, in 1732, the University of Aberdeen, without his knowledge, conferred on him the degree of doctor in divinity ; which title of esteem he accepted of with a modesty and decency becom ing the Christian, and which (it were to be wished) did al ways as much honour to the Scotch universities in the disr posal, as it certainly did in this instance of Dr. Guyse. The Doctor was at this time engaged in preparing a large and excellent work for the press, " A Paraphrase on the New Testament, in three volumes, quarto ;" a work which cost him a great deal of labour and close study, and is executed with a great degree of exactness and care. He has shewn herein his solid judgment and learning, and, without any affectation and needless pomp of criticism, has given the reader as full a view of the sense of the best in terpreters, and as comprehensive an insight into the scope and meaning of the New Testament, as is likely perhaps to be met with, in the same compass of words : It is inT deed a performance too well known to need any other than its own recommendation, The Doctor was favoured with a considerable share of health for many years ; but in the latter part of life he was afflicted with a very painful lamer ness in his leg, and also with a gradual decay of his sight, till he grew totally dark ; still he continued frequently to appear in his delightful work, with his usual firmness and alacrity of mind ; and thus he went on, though under vi sible decays of strength and vigour, till within a few weeks of his decease, yet with little sensible inconvenience to any but himself. Dr. Guyse's character and conduct were uniform and amiable in all the various points of light. In his religious principles he was fixed, steady, consistent, and open : He was never ashamed to own what he believed ; or to vindi cate it, when it was opposed. As a preacher, he was en dued with excellent ministerial gifts : His compositions were solid, regular, well digested, and highly scriptural ; his knowledge and readiness in the Scriptures were very re markable, the number of texts he quoted, chapter and verse, and for the most part repeated with exactness, after he had entirely lost his sight, afforded surprise to many. As a pastor, he was an active, able, loving, and faithful guide and ensample to his flock, both in faith and practical godliness : He studied the things which made for peace and godly edifying; and as he had the welfare of his peo ple greatly at heart, so there are few ministers to be found, whq guyse. an who are more honoured and esteemed by theif people than the Doctor was. His natural temper (it is well known) was exceeding sweet and engaging, and he filled up the several relations of life in a mosthappy and amiable manner. Few persons in the world were more exemplar/ in Christian and relative duties. It was his constant study to make every one about him happy ; and indeed, he was always best beloved by those who had the opportunity of knowing the most of him. His very amiable disposition, heightened by a spi* rit of real religion, caused him to step forth as a constant friend {and patron to a number of poor ministers ; for whom he annually solicited the contribution of his friends, towards raising a fund for supplying their necessities. Re ligious young men, who were designed for that sacred office, were also sure to find in the Doctor a kind and faithful adviser, patron, and friend. And to every needy object, without the least ostentation, would his heart and hand often open to minister to their necessities : He made conscience of disposing of the tenth part of his annual in come to charitable uses. When it was judged necessa ry, that some farther measures should be taken, as a means under providence for continuing to the dissenting congre gations the succession of an able gospel-ministry, the Doc tor joined heart and hand with those ministers and gentle men, who formed themselves into a society for that impor tant end. He continued a member of this society to his death ; and though it is too common a frailty in good men to yield to fickleness and disgust, when every thing is not conducted exactly to their own wish, the Doctor's good temper and good sense kept him clear from these things ; he wisely kept in view the importance and usefulness of the design, and therefore steadily persevered in promoting its interests. His latter end to a remarkable degree was peace ; he was enabled to leave the world with great com posure, serenity, and hope of a blessed immortality. In his last weeks of confinement, he witnessed a good and a pre cious confession : He again and again declared his faith firm fixed upon Him who is the Rock of ages ; his hopes were alive to God, without a distressful cloud : " Thanks be to Gon, I have no doubt, no difficulty upon my mind, as to my eternal state ; if I had, I could not bear what I now feel ! I know in whom I have believed, here my faith rests ; the peculiar doctrines of the gospel, which I have long preached, are now the support of my soul, I live upon them every day : Hence I derive a never-failing comfort." At GUYSE. At another time, " How good is my God to me ! How often has he made good to me that promise, As thy day is, so shall thy strength be.'''' His great request, to the last, of them that were about him, was to read the word to him, and to join in prayer with him ; the reading of the vth chapter of 2 Cor. was of singular use and satisfaction to his mind ; on which he commented to this effect; Verse 1. For we know, that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, &c. " Oh, when shall it be dissolved indeed ! when shall this mortal put on immortality !" Ver. 2. In this we groan earnestly, desiring to} be clothed .upon, &c. " This, this is my earnest desire, and what I am waiting for." Ver. 4. Fdr we, that are in this tabernacle, do groan, being burdened. " For this I groan daily, and ere long shall groan no more." Ver. 5. Now he that hath wrought us for the self-same thing is God, who also hath given unto us the earnest of his Spirit. " This I have, this I do enjoy, and therefore am I confident, &c. — -I am not afraid of death : I am afraid I should err, on the other hand, in being too desirous of it." Thus on the morning of the Lord's Day in which he died, still was it the language of his heart and lips, " When shall I get through this valley ?" And some of the last words he was capable of pronouncing, so as to be understood, were, " Oh my God, thou who hast always been with me, will not leave me." Sweet confidence ! and blessed readiness ! With the apostlehe was desirous to depart, that he might&e with Christ : Which fervent wish of his soul was granted him on the twenty-second of November 1761, and in the eighty-first year of his age; when that gracious promise was fulfilled, Psal. xci. 16. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation. The late pious, learned, and amiable Dr. Conder,whopreachedhisfuneral sermon from Psal. xxxvii. 37, Mark the perfect man, and behold the uprigid ; for the end of that man is peace, says, ' Such was the life, and such was the end of this excellent and dear Servant of Jesus Christ, that they are a striking comment upon my text, and are a lively exemplification of the character and end therein described.' The Doctor had one son, the Re verend Mr. William Guyse, of excellent abilities and mi nisterial talents, who was for some time his father's assist ant, but died about two years before him. His Works are, I, " Jesus Christ God-Man ; or the Constitution of Christ's Person, with theEvidence and Im portance of the Doctrine of his true and proper Godhead ; considered in several plain and practical Sermons, on Rom. GUYSE. 379 Rom. ix. 3. II. The Holy Spirit a divine Person, or the Doctrine of his Godhead represented, as Evident and Im portant, in several practical Sermons, on 1 Cor. xii. 11. III. The standing Use of the Scripture to all the Purposes of a divine Revelation, and more particularly to Patience, Comfort, and Hope : With the Method, Wisdom, and Advantages of understanding it, and giving it due Enter tainment : In several Sermons on Rom. xy. 4. and Col. iii. 16. IV. The Evil of Self-seeking ; a Sermon preached at a Meeting of Ministers at Royston in Hertfordshire. V. Areligious Education recommended,.in a Sermon preached at Pinner's Hall in Broad-street, March 13, 1728, to the Society that supports the Charity School in Horsly-Down, Southwark. To which is added, an Account of the Cha rity School. VI. Youths' Obstructions in their Way to Christ and eternal Life; considered in a Sermon preached a^ Little St. Helen's, May 1, 1728. VII. Youth remind ed of a Judgment to come ; in a Sermon preached at Pet ty-France, Dec. 25, 1728. VIII. Early Seekers of Christ directed and encouraged ; in a Sermon on Prov. viii. 17. preached at Petty-France, May 1, 1729. IX. A Sermon on John xi. 25, 26. occasioned by the death of the Reve rend Mr. John Asty, Jan. 20, 1729-30. Mt. 54. preached Feb. 8, in Ropemakers Alley : To which is added a Post script, relating tothereverendMr. Samuel Chandler'ssecond letter to the Author about preaching Christ, &c. The second edition has. marginal additions. X. A Sermon preached at the separation of the reverend Mr. John Hal- ford, to the pastoral office in the church of Christ at Horsly- Down, Oct. 24, 1724. XI. A Sermon preached to the So cieties for Reformation of Manners, at Salter's-Hall, on Monday, June 30, 1735. XII. Youths' Monitor, in six Sermons preached to young people. XIII. God's Alarm to Great Britain ; or an Enquiry into our public Mercies, and Abuses of them; our Danger and Way of Deliver ance; a Sermon preached on occasion of the General Fast, Jan. 1739-40. XIV. The Tendency of Liberality to Riches, and of Covetousness to Poverty: A Sermon preached at the Old- Jewry, March 3, 1741-2, to the So ciety for Relief of the Widows and Orphans of Protes tant Dissenting Ministers. XV. A Sermon, occasioned by the death of the Reverend Mr. John Ubbard; preached at Stepney, July 24, 1743. XVI. A Volume of single Sermons, collected together by the Doctor himself in his later years ; a large octavo. XVII. A Paraphrase on the New Testament above-mentioned, which may be consi dered as his principal Work." 880 T. JONES. THOMAS JONES, M.A. Late CHAPLAIN or St. SAVIOUR'S, SOUTH WARK. 1 HIS excellent Man was called to stand forth in support of the truths of the gospel at a period, when those truths seemed to have but little impression among the members of the established church, to^ which he be longed. At that time, a minister of the church of England, who ventured to maintain her articles and homilies in doc trine, and who supported them in fact by a holy life and experience, was a kind of prodigy in the world, and (though awful it ^be to say it) met with nothing but cen sure, persecution, and hard names, from all ranks and sorts of men. And though in following the path of duty, which both the Word of God and the principles and ru bric of the church pointed out and enforced, an upright minister could expect no advantages of a temporal kind, but the contrary ; yet there were not wanting those, who, measuring others by themselves, would slander and abuse him, as having nothing in his view but the mammon of unrighteousness. In short, worldly men of all professions feel so severe a reproof, not from the words only, but From the lives and conversations, the principles and views, of gracious ministers and real Christians, that they cannot endure what serves for so striking and so standing a re proach upon themselves. And when the number of these is but few, then the world, as it hath uniformly done at such times, seeks to run them down by voices and by names ; if it be not permitted to go as far as it otherwise would, and oppress them by violence and cruelty. In the former part of this century, the established mi nisters, who thought themselves bound in conscience and duty to support their own articles by preaching and living, were but thinly scattered over the land. It might then be said of them, Apparent rari nantes in 'gurgite vaste. But, nearer the middle of the century, they became yet more scarce; and, before the revival of religion, which en sued about forty years ago, an evangelic ministerwas hard to be found. Our pulpits sounded with morality, deduced from the principles of nature and the fitness of things, with ho T. JONES. 381 no relation to Christ or the Holy Spirit, all which the hea then philosophers have insisted upon and with perhaps more than modern ingenuity; and, in consequence, our streets have resounded with heathen immorality. We had flowery language in the church, and loose language out of it. There was no apparent spirit or grace in the public service ; and the private life discovered none. Nay, the people were taught not to expect it, but to esteem every thing of a su blime and spiritual influence, as enthusiastic and delusive. This strange infatuation (to call it no worse) 'proceeded so far, that the minister, who but a few minutes before, could Eray with the congregation to God, " who teacheth the earts of his faithful people, by the sending to them the light of the Holy Spirit," and could ask, for them and him self, that God " would grant them by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to re joice in his holy comfort," and could further petition " for the inspiration of the Holy Spirit to cleanse the thoughts; of their hearts, that they might love and magnify his holjr name;" I say, it occurred, that the minister, who could utter these excellent words in the desk, has changed his lan guage, as well as his white garment, in the pulpit, and re viled the whole of such sentiments and expressions for cant, rhapsody* and nonsense. Nothing could come of such methods as these, which have too long and too much in fected the church, but that practical ungodliness which has in consequence overrun the land: And nothing can set up a standard (to use the prophet's words) against this flood of sin, but the Spirit of the Lord, whose name, nature, and office, have been so vilely and daringly traduced among us. Jfi this unhappy time* Mr. Jones, with a very few others, was called to stand forth in the defence of the gospel. He had great gifts, and great grace. He needed both for the work, to which Providence called him. His sweetness of natural temper, great as it eminently was, would never have supported him under the numberless insults he met with, had it not been strengthened, as well as adorned, by a sublimer influence. It was this* and only this* which enabled him to overcome evil with good, as well as to have not the form only, but the power of godliness. His intimate and dear friend, the Reverend Mr. Romaine, has given so full an account of him, both in a funeral ser mon preached upon the occasion of his death, and in a pre face to the volume of his works, that we are happy to tran scribe 382 T. JONES. scribe as much as possible from it into the memoir of so valuable a man. Before the Lord was pleased to call him, he was walk ing in the error of his ways, like others who know not God ; in the vanity of his mind, having his understand ing darkened, and being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that was in him, because of the blindness of his heart. Of this, however, God made him deeply sensible; and he was never ashamed to own it. His first awakening was by the gradual working of the law upon his conscience. It was not by outward means, such as hearing the word preached, or by some afflicting provi dence, sickness, trouble, or the like^ but by the inward conviction of sin, wrought by the Spirit of God upon his conscience. He had his strongest convictions where he had not the benefit of any outward means. The views which he had hereby of his state and danger were very deep and distressing. While he was under this soul-concern my acquaintance first began with him ; (says Mr. Romaine) and since that time, which is about eight years ago, [i. e. in the year 1754,] our great intimacy and friendship has given me a constant opportunity of being a witness of God's gracious dealings with his soul. He went mourn ing for a long time, bowed down under the sense of guilt and the power of unbelief. In this school of humiliation he learnt self-knowledge. Here he was taught the sad effect of a ruined, spoiled nature; of a soul depraved in all its fa culties, estranged from the mind and will of God, and governed by its own corrupt and stubborn will, command ing the body to give up its members as instruments of un righteousness unto sin. Here he was taught what sin is, namely, the transgression of the law, which, is exceeding sinful, because the law is holy, just, and good, a perfect copy of the divine perfections. And here he was taught the damnable nature of heart-sin, which is the fountain from which all sin flows, and which, in the heart of the natural man, is ever flowing over. He learnt these lessons With such a deep experience, that the impression lasted all his days ; for when God shewed him great mercy, and he was enabled to believe in the Lord Jesus, still he found nothing of himself wherein to glory. Humble and low in his own eyes, he was ready to give the honour to whom alone honour was due. Yea, after he was greatly strength ened and established, so as to live by faith on the Son of God, still he knew that all wal mercy. Mercy, free mercy, had from him all the praise : And this was so much the T. JONES. 383 the frame and abiding temper of his mind, that it appeared on .all occasions : His spiritual friends and acquaintance can witness, that he was clothed with humility, and that he walked humbly with his God. A demonstration this, that he had found mercy, because he had made it the end and aim of his life to shew forth the praises of that free mercy, which he had so freely received ; and as he lived* so he died, acknowledging himself an object of mercy. By faith the Christian is engrafted, as a branch, into the' true vine ; so by faith Mr. Jones was a fruitful branch. He did not seek to bear fruit to make himself alive — the fruit does not make the tree alive ; but to testify his love and gratitude, to do good to men, and above all to fulfil what is written, Herein is my Father glorified, (says Christ), that ye bear much fruit, John xv. 8. That ye keep faith so constantly in act and exercise upon me, as to be always receiving out of my fulness grace for grace : For life, and the acts of life in every grace, are in and from me ; and the more you live by faith in me, the more will my Father be glorified. — This was what Mr. Jones happily expert enced in his heart and in his life. A person who lives thus by faith will be humble in heart : Every act of this faith declares his emptiness and want of all spiritual good, while it leads to Christfor his promised supply : And this was remarkably Mr. Jones's case, he was humble indeed. The witnesses are as many as knew him : But how much he was emptied of self, and enabled to live in an humble depend-* ence upon the grace and strength of Christ, best appeared from his own life, in which through faith many precious- fruits were produced. Love to precious souls was the great motive that directed his views to the work of the ministry, and was that which carried him through all the trials and difficulties he met with in prosecution of this great design. His own flock in particular, to whom the Lord had made him overseer, was much upon his heart : How frequent and how earnest in prayer for them ! and, to the last, he did not forget them. In his sickness he would be often crying out, "Lord, feed thy sheep ; Lord, feed thy sheep." He was always study ing and contriving something that might be useful to their best interest. There is an alms-house in St. Saviour's pa rish called the college, and some small stipend for doingduty in it. Mr. Jones thought it was not right to take the mo ney, unless he did the duty. Accordingly he began to read prayers, and to expound the Scripture in the college chapel, and went on for some time. The congregation was 384 T. J O N E S. was very large, and the success was very great. Many souls were in this place first awakened, who are now walk ing in the faith and fear of GODj adorning the gospel of our Saviour ; and some are fallen asleep, whom we have seen leave a testimony that they have followed their pastor, and entered into the joy of their Lord. But here he was stopt, and refused the use of the chapel. After this he set up a weekly lecture in his church ; but he had not preached it long, before he was denied the use of the pulpit. Mr. Jones, however, not discouraged by all this, went on giving away good books, some of which he carried in person to every house in the parish, catechizing the chil dren; who came Weekly to his house for that purpose; and paying religious visits among his parishioners, when they used to talk freely of the state of their souls. By these methods he tried to win his people to Christ, beside the stated duties of his office, in performing of which he seemed to set God always before him, and to be greatly drawn out to his hearers, of whom a very great number I trust did frequent his ministry, not led thither by the ease of his delivery, the sweetness of his voice, or the smoothness of his periods, but because they felt the weight and impor tance of the doctrines he preached. Several people, who will be his joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus, hearing him preach upon the entire ruin of man by the fall, were convinced that they were in this state, and upon the entire recovery of man through Jesus Christ, were enabled by his word and Spirit to believe in him for righteousness, and to live upon him for grace to walk, as he also walked. These things are not mentioned with a design to set him above any of the Lord's ministers : He had no such thoughts when living: No one could think more meanly of himself than he did. As he was adorned with so many graces in his private life, and with so many public, who should have the praise, but the Giver of them all, even, that good God who shewed him mercy, and in whose sight he was so precious as to have his marvellous loving-kindness continued even unto death ? He was afflicted for some years before his death with a disorder that kept him very low, and brought him often to death's door ; during all which time his growth in grace was great and remarkable. The victory gained over the old man was never more manifest, and his deadness to the world never more apparent. Relying upon the promise, Sin shall not have dominion over you, he proclaimed war against all inward lusts and risings of sin, and set upon them in T: JONES. 385 in the power and strength of the Lord : And being much exercised in this part of the Christian warfare, the Lord did wonders for him in giving him grace to crucify the old man of sin. God's great love appeared in his great chastenings; for whom he loveth he chasteneth. He re fines all his people in the furnace of afflictions: In it was Mr. Jones refining for many years, and much dross had been done away ; and because he was precious in the sight of the Lord, he was tried like gold, and purified seven times in the fire. In the wholesome school of adversity he had learned resignation to the will of God, and under his long weak state of health to kiss the rod and be thankful, ana under the reigning power of grace to subdue impatience^ fretfulness, and murmuring, with all those selfish tempers which want to have our will and not Gun's to be done^ In this school he learned to live by faith in Christ; in all his offices ; as a prophet to teach him wisdom to lead him to God ; as a priest to bring him near to God by his aton ing blood and righteousness ; and as a king to keep him near to God, ruling in him and over him. This faith was tried, and it grew by trials. The more it was exer cised the more did he find of the safety and happiness of living by faith on the Son of God. And hereby he learned what the patience of the saints is ; namely, an act of faith under outward afflictions, looking up to God for grace to hold out as long as the afflictions last: And such was Mr. Jones's patience under a tedious illness, never being heard to murmur ; and upon his death-bed he was afraid of no thing but impatience; and God out of the tenderest love kept him, till patience had done its perfect work. He grew also dead to the world, and experienced what the apostle means, when he says, the world is crucified to me, and I unto the world. Its pleasures, its riches, its honours, were nothing to him. He did not despise them because he could not get them, but he parted with them freely, when he had them in his own power. God had provided for him a comfortable maintenance;* but he laid up nothing, except for the poor, to whom he gave libe rally of what he had, and with a willing mind. As to honour, But * This maintenance very little exceeded one hundred pounds a-year. But it was surprizing (by that frugality which distinguished the primitive Christians) how much good he did with it. He did not appear to live for himself, even in the common means and matters of human life. All seemed in him to be devoted to God and to Godliness. His compassionate heart could sympathize with the sorrows of men, and his gracious heart was always eager to relieve therfl. VOL. IV. 2 C 386 T. J O N E S. honour, he wanted not that which was from men : He wad led to choose a better : He has it now. And this deadness to the world was of great use to him when he came to die. Then he had the comfort of it, as appeared from that sweet expression of his on his death-bed — " It is not dying out of the world, but dying in the world, and parting with all its toys and trifles, and that not with sickness or pain." And being thus by faith dead to the world while in it, what should make him afraid to die out of it ? He had been so long kept under the cross, that it had been the means of crucifying the world unto him, of subduing his own will and his own temper, of trying his faith, and of exercising his patience. And as the cross was thus made profitable to the mortification of the old man, so was it to the quick ening and strengthening of the new man. You could not converse with him, without being put in mind of the meekness and gentleness of Christ. In his behaviour, in his conversation, he shewed, that he had put on, as one of the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kind ness, humbleness of mind, long-suffering ; ready to bear with others, and ready to forgive, as Christ had also freely forgiven him. These amiable graces of the new man ap peared in all his conduct ; and particularly in all his mi nisterial labours, in which it was easy to discover his great kindness and tender love to perishing sinners. His last sickness was indeed sweetened with divine love : His faith, his resignation, his comforts failed him not. A gracious God shewed how dear and precious he was to him, by removing every thing that could render death in the least dreadful ; and although his fever was violent for seven days, yet his soul was still and calm. He was not even suffered to have one doubt concerning his interest in Christ, but lived happily, and died rejoicing. At intervals he spoke much to the comfort of his attending friends ; we hope it may be also to the instruction of his survivingfel- low mortals. Humility of heart was the distinguishing part of his character. Hereby appeared the genuineness of his faith, whose every act declares our emptiness and want of all spiritual good, while it leads to Christ for the promised supply. When waiting therefore for his dissolu tion, he demonstrated to all how greatly the Lord had humbled him. Speaking about the state of his soul to one, he declared, " That as a dying man he had nothingto trust to but the Redeemer's righteousness; and that his faith in it had been so strengthened during his illness as now to take away all doubt and fear.?' Now wereferought into lively exercise T. JONES. 387 exereise the graces of the new and inward man ; faith Was vigorous, hope unclouded, and love undivided. These made the approach of death welcome, as he found in his last moments, when he said, " An eternal life of glory for a life of misery ! — Who would not change misery for happi ness? Hasten, — O hasten, dear Lord." And in one of his weakest hours, " Blessed be God for that degree of faith which he hath given me; for though it has operated in so weak a manner, yet I have many blessed and comfort able marks in my own soul of his love to me." Here was faith indeed. He could find nothing in himself to put the least trust in as to acceptance with God, and therefore his trust was stronger in Christ: " What an unfelt, what an unthought-of corruption," he cried at another time, " is here both in body and soul ! My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and portion for ever." His ground for this he declared was, " a covenantof mercy, free grace in the Lord Jesus," in which, knowing that he had his share, he could say, " Now, let thy servant de part in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation. — Now, Lord, I can lay me down in peace, and safely take my rest." In this happy frame he was praying, " Lord, secure a soul thou hast died to save ;" when,after a pause, he Cried, " he will, he will : I have part here ; I shall have all soon." On the Friday before he died, God was pleased remarkably to visit him with a sight of his salvation : " I have had a glorious view," said he, " of the love of Christ to my soul this morning :" And this love shed abroad in his heart brought many sweet words out of his dying mouth ; such as, " For me to live is Christ, to die is gain." — " Come, Lord Jesus ; come quickly, and give me an easy dismission." — " Lord, give me an easy dismission to a blessed eternity." — :" Ere this time to-morrow j perhaps, I shall be where all sorrow is done away." — " I shall have a Sabbath of Trinity, before I thought of it, to worship a tri-one God." To Mrs. Jones, he said, " Do not be sur prised at anyalteration you may see in me; for death always makes strange alterations. When the Lord is pleased to give me my dismission, rejoice over my corpse, and praise God for what we have suffered together here, and for what we shall enjoy together hereafter." Towards his latter end he was much in prayer ; and these were some of his expressions : " The silver cords of life are breaking; man gbeth to his long home ; and the mourners go about the streets : — Lord, guide me home in safety, and lead me through theshadow of deatfi. —"This mortal shall soon put on 388 T. JONES. on immortality : — Though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another. — I go hence like a shadow that declineth ; I wither away like grass ; but the Lord is the portion of my soul, and my strong hope; — I am so full of pain indeed that I can think but little ; yet I know that Jesus is carrying on the interests of my poor soul notwithstanding." And one of his last sayings was, " I am of the church of the first-born, who shall stand on Mount Sion ; one chosen from among my brethren ; a sinner saved, a sinner saved." And thus not only safely but triumphantly did Mr. Jones exchange this lower world of sin and sorrow for the pure unmixed joys of God's eternal kingdom above, on the sixth of June ] 762; in the thirty ¦* third year of his age. Two brothers, who had received much edification from his ministry, erected a decent monu ment of their own kindness for his memory in St. Saviour's church, where he was buried, with the following inscriptions Sacred to the Memory of the Rev. THOMAS JONES, A. M. late of Queen's College, Cambridge, and Chaplain of this Parish ; who died June the 6, 1762, Aged 33. This Monument is erected by JOHN and JOSEPH STREET, Gents. : as a Memorial of the Edification they received from his faithful Labours in the Ministry ; A.D. 1770. His Works, which are printed in one volume 8vo. London, 1762, consist of sermons : The eight first are en titled, " An Exposition of the Church Catechism." The I. is from Heb. viii. part of the 10th verse. The II. from Mark i. and latter part of the 15th verse. The III. from St. James ii. 24. The IV. from John xiv. 15. The V. from 2 Chron. vii. 14. The VI. from the same text. The VII. from John iii. and latter part of the 5th verse. The VIII. from 1 Cor. x. 16. Two sermons preached at St. Saviour's, entitled, "Re pentance and Reconciliation with God, recommended and enforced : One from James iv. 9, 10. and the other from Matth. v. 25, 26. with a serious and affectionate Ad dress to the Inhabitants of the said Parish. A sermon preached before the several Associations of the laudable Or der T. JONES. der of Anti-Gallicans, from Joshua xxiii. 11, 12, 13. A Sermon, entitled, The Beauties of Spring, Cant. ii. 10, 11, 12, 13. A Funeral Sermon, entitled, The Good of Afflic tion, John xvi. 33. latter clause. A Sermon preached before the Society for promoting Religious Knowledge among the Poor, on 2 Cor. v. 14. A Visitation Sermon, Acts xx . 26. latter part. A Charity Sermon preached at St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate, from Psal. xlviii. 9. ' As to the style of these discourses, and the manner of the composition, it does not become me (says his biogra pher) to force my judgment upon the public. Let them speak for themselves. Mr. Jones was aware of their want ing many ornaments which false taste admires, and has accordingly made his apology in the preface to the sermons upon the Catechism. He had little time to study the fine turned period, or the pointed sentence ; and he did not think the gospel stood in need of the arts of human orato ry to recommend it. He endeavoured to profit more than to please. And as his labours were chiefly among his own parishioners, he believed the importance of gospel truths, plainly delivered and enforced, would be more useful than any enticing words of man's wisdom. Upon this plan he composed the sermons in this volume, and they were drawn out into public view at the earnest entreaty and solicitation of his hearers, to whom he gave them up as they were preached. He could not prevail with himself to refine their manner or to polish their style ; and this their present plainness is with me a great recommendation. The matter is of far more consequence than the manner; for what is the end of preaching but to profit the hearers? And they are not profited by the excellency of speech or of wisdom, but by the demonstration of the Spirit and of power ; which did certainly accompany those plain discourses when delivered from the pulpit : May the same accompany them from the press !' It is an anecdote which deserves to be recorded, that, between twenty and thirty years ago; when one only pul pit in or about the great metropolis, and that only on a Sunday or Thursday afternoon during term-time, was accessible for the pure doctrines of the gospel and of the church, a certain number of serious persons met at stated times for the sole purpose of praying, that God would be pleased, in his mercy to the establishment, to raise up faithful ministers in it, who should sound forth the gospel pf his grace as in the days of old, when the establishment svas adorned with gracious pastors in all parts of the land, and 390 P E A 11 S A L L. and to give their ministry abundant success. Within a space it pleased God to answer these petitions, by raising up one and another, insomuch that at this time (and it ought to be mentioned with gratitude) there are very many ministers, both in town and country, who think it the true way of honouring the church by maintaining her own es tablished articles, and the only way of serving God in the salvation of souls, by preaching his word faithfully, by feed ing the flock duly, and by living among them constantly, and all this not for filthy lucre saJce, but of a ready mind, their great expectation being, when the chief Shepherd shall appear, to receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away. RICHARD PEARSALL, 1 HIS evangelical minister was born at Kidderminster in Worcestershire, on the 29th of August 1698, and re ceived his education in a dissenting academy at Tewkes bury in Gloucestershire. In process of time he entered upon the ministerial service, and was fixed for ten years at BrOmyard in Herefordshire. From thence he removed to Warminster in Wiltshire, at which place he continued his ministry for sixteen years; and, finally, he setted in Taun ton in Somersetshire, where he exercised the sacred func tion for above fifteen years, and from thence was called to heaven on the 10th of November 1762. His writings discover the piety and grace with which God had blessed him. They are not only evangelical, but ingenious ; and though he does not exceed Mr. Hervev in these respects, whose style he seems to have admired and imitated, yet his contemplations may be read with pleasure and profit, especially by younger minds, to whom they arc particularly adapted. His Contemplation on the Ocean, &c. in two volumes, 12mo. were published, by himself, and are mentioned by Mr. Hervey vdth regard, in the third yolume of his Theron and Aspasio. His Reliquia Sacrte were presented to the world by Dr. Gibbons, in two vo lumes, 12mo. 1765. They consist of Meditations on select Passages of Scripture, and Sacred Dialogues between a Fa ther and his Children. If these do not abound with so many lively sallies of the imagination as the Contemplations, they at least equal them in a warm serious piety, and may. PEARS ALL. 391 may, by the Divine blessing, breathe holy fervour in the reader's breast. Mr. Pearsall felt inward decays some time before his decease, and often expressed the same to his family. He seemed to be quite prepared for death, and he continually- expatiated on the glories beyond the grave, and the high honour conferred on the just made perfect. His conscience bore testimony to the faithful discharge of his duty as a minister, father, and friend. He declared, that the great truths of the gospel he preached when living, were the foundation of his hope in dying, and he recommended a firm attachment to them to all that came to visit him; nor did he omit strongly to urge a strict and close walk with God in private. A day or so before his death, he desired his friends not to be surprized if he went off sooner than they expected. He went to bed seemingly as well as usual. No alteration was observed by the person who was in the cham ber, till a few minutes before his departure, when he ap peared to be dying. One of his daughters came to him, and desired him to speak, which he could not, but he open ed his eyes, put out his hand, and immediately breathed his last. His concern for his flock dictated a letter, which he addressed to them as from the grave, and which, agree able to his direction, was read to them soon after his de7 cease. Dr. Gibbons has given the whole of it in a preface to the Reliquiae Sacra; and as it shews the temper of Mr. Pearsall's mind in the prospect of dissolution, a few exr tracts from it may not be impertinent to the short account of his life, nor be unprofitable to the reader. " My dear Friends, " How far you dwell upon my heart, he only knows who searches it; but I trust I may say, ye are witnesses, and God also, that I have a real and lively concern for you, especially for that prosperity of yours which is most important in itself, and which it is peculiarly my province to promote, that you may, as a church, be a flourishing society, a nursery for heaven, a name and a praise unto the Lord in the earth ; that your respective persons may share in the special favours of the Most High ; that your bodies may be in health, as far as the wisdom of your hea venly Father sees consistent with soul-prosperity ; that your trade may flourish, thai riches may increase ; that peace may be within your walls, those of your town, your own houses, your Bethel; that all those blessings may be be stowed upon you, which are contained in the presence of GfOD> 392 P E A R S A L L. God, and are experienced by that gospel church which shall be called Jehovah Shammah, because the Lord is there. It is now many years since I first saw your face, and you first heard my voice. Through the course of these years I have received many favours from you, for which I return you my sincere thanks. As the time now approaches in which we shall neither see nor hear each other, no more have communion with one another, either in a way of common friendship, or in the duties of religion, it is my desire, either to take a solemn farewell, or leave this dying testimonial behind me, of my love to you, and longings after your welfare; entreating that he, who can so prosper and increase a handful of corn upon the top of a mountain, as that the fruit thereof shall shake as Lebanon, would cause this attempt to answer its purpose, that it may be savingly profitable. My friends, I have preached living, I would preach dying: From the pulpit the sound hath gone forth to your ears at least; if now from the chamber, the closet, the bed, the same sound is repeated, imagine the reason is, I would prevail : I am to be instant in season and out of season, and I hope the circumstances attending my present writing may be strongly argumentative, that you may think me in earnest, as indeed I am, and may approve yourselves so. The present is to me a season of reflection, how, in what manner, I have exercised my ministry, and to what purpose. And 1 entreat most seriously and affec tionately, that it may be to you, and every one of you, a season of due consideration how you have improved it. " Would you know my heart without disguise, while in the views of death, judgment, and eternity ? I look back upon my former ministry : I will tell you most seriously,' that as my preaching among you was extracted from the ever blessed gospel, and I daubed not with untempered mortar, so I now stand to the doctrines I so often delivered, and make them the basis of my hope, and humble confi dence in a fainting, dying season. I know in the present day many sentiments are propagated diametrically opposite to each other; and perhaps on the one side and the other there may be zeal; I am sure another day will infallibly de clare what is genuine gospel; every work will be manifest, for it shall be as metal revealed by fire. Now I can't come to you upon this head from the other side of death; but as near as I am to it, my persuasion does not abate ; nay, the more near, the more distinct and awful views I take of the future scene, the more suitable I see these doctrines, which are peculiar to the gospel, to be to the nature of God PEARSALL 393 God, the wants of my soul, and necessary to every fallen creature. " It was always my concern to call no man father or master on earth. I paid indeed a respect to good men, so as not wantonly to differ from them ; also a respect to the footsteps of the flock, so as not causelessly to deviate from them ; and it was one part of my satisfaction, that my sen timents in divinity coincided nearly with those that I thought were the most holy, and had most of the Spirit of God : But I never paid that deference to divines, or an assembly of divines, as to take any thing on their word. I carried all to the law and to the testimony, as to a touch stone, and called nothing gold, nothing truly valuable, but as agreeable to the Scriptures of truth, and:having a di vine stamp on it. I now (as far as I can) confirm what I have before preached ; and would in the most serious man ner, as a dying man and minister, recommend the blessed gospel, and all that system of sacred truths that runs through it. Think of no justification but what is to be had through the righteousness of Christ, accepted by the penitent soul in a way of humble faith. In every kind of approach to God, whether habitual or actual, seek acceptance in the be loved. Lethim be your Mediator and High Priest, by whom you present yourselves first, and then your various sacri fices to the Lord of all, and think that he could be Priest only as he was and is God incarnate. As I always main tained the doctrine of original sin, and preached to you as to persons that needed a regenerating spirit, so I verily be lieve, not only from the declaration of our blessed Re deemer, but from the corruption of man's heart, from the nature of sin as the soul's pollution, compared with the purity of the divine nature, and of the heavenly world, which are all purity, that verily, except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of heaven. I always endeavoured to carry you off from self-seeking and self-dependence to God and his glory, that you might not imagine you were your own, and might act as you pleased. I shewed that you could be blessed only in the divine favour and smiles, as I often insisted on the meditation of Christ, and your one ness with him in the way of faith, in order to your union with God and felicity in him; and with all this the necessity of the spirit of holiness to create you anew, and preserve you safe unto the heavenly kingdom. I appeal to you, whe ther I have not made such points as these capital ; whether they have not been as bread and salt at our tables, attend ing our daily food ; whether they have not run through my ministry. 394 G R I M S H A W. ministry, intimately commingling themselves with it. I still think I should have done so ; and had my ministry been never so far protracted, I am satisfied I should have per severed in this scheme of doctrine ; building on this founda tion not wood, hay, stubble of vain confidence, ill-founded hopes, carnal liberties, pride and hypocrisy ; but gold, silver, precious stones, the living graces and spiritual duties of vital Christianity, with a waiting on the Lord in the way that he hath prescribed, that in all he may be glorified, and we may receive living water through those pipes of conveyance from the grand reservoir, in which it hath pleased the Father that all fulness should dwell. As I did not preach Christianity to consist in a lifeless profession, so I pressed it often on your consciences, that you should see to it, that there was a real union between Christ and you, and that it be such a joining yourselves to the Lord, as is productive of real disoipleship, and so you follow the Lord in the way of universal holiness. In short, I am persuaded my scheme was good, I mean evangelical; and that it tended in all its lines to that one grand centre, the glory of Goo, as holy, just and good; the advancement of Christ's honour, in his person, power, love, merit, and faithfulness ; the honour of the blessed Spirit ; and the holiness, safety, com fort and felicity of God's people here and hereafter." By these brief extracts from a long letter to his flock, we are instructed in the frame of Mr. Pearsall's heart, and may see, that the love of God and the salvation of souls lay with great and solemn weight upon his thoughts. This letter would make a very proper appendix to the small volume of pious letters, written in the last century, by Mr. Joseph Alleine to the people of Taunton ; and pos sibly the hint of it was taken from them. This town has been long blessed with the sound of evangelic truth: May it holdfast that which remains, in the midst of that great de generacy which prevails in the counties about it, that the candlestick may not be removed, and that no mantake its crown !¦ WILLIAM GRIMSHAW, A.B. IN proportion only as the love of God is shed abroad in the heart, will the labours of love abound in the life. There may be many natural and corrupt views for the zeal and diligence of our fallen nature to promote itself; but nothing G R I M S H A W. 395 nothing can induce a hearty concern for spiritual things, where all the pride, profit, and glory of the flesh must be brought down, except that renewal in the spirit of the mind, which enables it to apprehend the worth of those things. 'Tis a certain rule in religion, as well as in philosophy, that nothing can rise above its own principles : And our Lord confirms this invariable truth, where he says, that which is born of the flesh, is flesh; it seeks what is of the flesh, knows nothing beyond, and cannot ascend above it. All its views and wishes are confined to the narrow bounds of time and of sense : Here it employs all its cares and endeavours, and, like the beasts that perish, thinks nothing of spiritual good, rejects it as a chimera or dream, and feed ing and filling itself with the gross substances of this ele mentary world, is totally unfitted for the enjoyment of that Being, who is all spirit and life, the source and the completion of every intellectual faculty and desire. On the other hand, that whichis bornofthe Spirit ("says Christ ) is Spirit : Nothing but this divine Spirit and his spiritual creation can satiate those who" proceed from him. They rise to him by his power ; and they are never happy but when they do rise, because they see all the good and all the end of their nature in this act, and all the misery anddark- ness, which can befall the soul, in a separation from him. Hence they comprehend the absolute necessity, which the Lord Jesus hath stated in saying, Verily, verily, except aman be born again, ('or, from above) he cannot see the Kingdom of God : He cannot have that true notion or idea of its spiritual objects, which is represented by the outward fa culty of sight. He may hear of it, and discourse of it too, as a blind man may of colours ; but .every body knows the difference of that apprehension, which passes through the different senses of the eyes and the ears. And then, in order to confirm a truth of such importance, our Lord renews his asseveration in another form ; Verily, verily, except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God. He must be renewed, changed, translated, new-created, or born again, by the agen cy of the Spirit of God cleansing and purifying his soul as water doth the body, or he cannot arrive at the spiritual perception of spiritual thjngs, nor finally attain the object of their communication in this world, or the salvation of Jesus Christ in the world to come. And if an unrenewed man cannot see, nor arrive at the true notion of spiritual things, nor enter into the spiritual enjoyment or experience of them in his soul ; how can he be zealous in attaining them 396 G R I M S H A W. them for himself; how can he be earnest and unwearied in recommending and urging them upon others ? — It is mo rally and naturally impossible. Quis enim quidquam nescius optet ? Aut quis valeat nescita sequi? Boethics. That is : Can he desire, who doth not know ?, Oh, who to what's unknown can go ? So, on the contrary, if a laborious concern to impress these spiritual objects upon the minds of others appear in a man, where no earthly good can be expected, but much of what is supposed to be so may be lost, by that concern ; it is an undeniable argument, that the soul is proportion-, ally awakened or enlivened to understand and desire what is in value above them. For it is not in nature to part with any thing which is thought to be good, but for the attain ment of a something, which is believed to be better. We shall not wonder, therefore, at the uncommon zeal and la bours of the man of God, whose life we are enteriug upon, when we consider the uncommon measure of grace he had received from the God of all grace ; but may rather deplore our own scanty attainments, which leave Us too often and too far behind him, when even his zeal, and life, and actU vity, (as he himself was sensible, and none more so.) were altogether unworthy of the Master and the cause he was serving. O that reflections of this kind may be sanctified to quicken us, whether ministers or people, to double our diligence ; knowing, that the time is short, that the night is at hand, "when no man can work, and that we can never lay, out our time or our souls to more advantage than for Him, who will suffer no act of duty or labour of love to be pro duced in vain ! This humble, laborious, and ardent Minister of Christ, William Grimshaw, was born on September the third, in the year of our Lord 1708, at Brindle, six miles south of Preston, in Lancashire ; and he was educated at the schools of Blackburn and Heskin, in that county. While he was a school-boy, the thoughts of death and judgment, the tor ments of hell,* the glories of heaven, and the sufferings of Christ, often made some transient impressions upon him ; owing probably to the religious care taken of him by his, parents. In the eighteenth year of his age, he was admitted a member of Christ's College in Cambridge : And here (as is but too usually the case) bad example deplorably prevailed to seduce him from that decent manner of life and those se^ rious reflections which had been inculcated upon him ; for, at G R I M S H A W. 39? at this time, having no real change wrought upon him, and consequently having no root in himself, the prevalent im piety of the college carried him away so far, that, for the space of more than two years, he seemed utterly to have lost all sense of religion and seriousness; nor was there any revival of his former impressions, till on the day he was ordained deacon, in the year 1731. On this occasion, he was much affected with a sense of the importance of the ministerial office which he was taking upon him, and the diligence which ought to be used in the discharge of it. Yet these convictions were but slight and soon carried away, like the chaff, by the wind of temptation : though, for -a little time, they were promoted by an acquaintance with some religious people at Rochdale, who used to meet together once a-week for religious exercises. But, upon his removal thence, very soon after, to Todmorden, though not far distant from Rochdale, instead of acting up to the good motions he had felt in his soul, and which had been encouraged by his pious acquaintance, he pursued a different course and went no more amongst them : He conformed to the vain and thoughtless world ; he follow ed all its stupid and trifling diversions ; and endeavoured to satisfy his conscience with " doing his ministerial duty" (according to the common phrase) on a Sunday, without attending any farther either to the improvement of his own mind by study; or to the improvement of his people as an effect of his own. He was, in a word, what but too many of the modern clerical profession are, an easy com panion for easy men, who give themselves no trouble about their own souls, or about God, or any thing else but what Leviathan is represented to be doing in the world, taking their pastime therein. Give them the pleasures of the earth; if not of direct sin too, for a season; and the honour of Christ, and the salvation of sinners, are those subordinate affairs, which may be taken care of, at any time or no time^ by any man or no man, just as they please. They comprehend no more of spiritual good than the luxurious epicure who said, ' That he did not understand what great happiness there Could be in heaven, where folks were to sit upon a bare cloud to eternity, singing hallelujahs, and having nothing to eat or to drink. There are thousands who would be ashamed, perhaps, to utter the words, but who are living in the spirit of the worldliness they imply from day to day. Mr. Grimshaw, to his compunction af terwards, was numbered too long among this ungodly fra ternity. It was for several years before he was enabled to 398 G R I M S H A W. to emerge from the low debauchery of the times. How ever, it is said he refrained as much as possible from gross swearing, unless in suitable company; and when he got drunk, would take care to sleep it out before he came home. O what a scandal to religion are swearing, drunken, horse- racing, gambling, and ungodly priests ; and what a jest or stumbling-block to the world ! About the year 1734, and in the twenty-sixth of Mr. Grimshaw's life, God was pleased to bring upon him an earnest concern for his own salvation, and consequently for that of his flock at Todmordeh. This immediately became visible by his reformation. He quickly left all his diversions: his fishing, card-playing, hunting, &c. And he now began to catechize the young people, to preach upf the absolute necessity of a strict and devout life ; to visit his people, not in order to drink and be merry with them as before, but to exhort and press them to seek the salva tion of their souls, and to enforce what he had delivered to them from the pulpit. At this period also, he began himself to pray in secret four times a-day. A blessed practice, which there is rea son to believe he never left off. The God o£ all grace, who had now prepared his heart to pray, soon also gave the answer to his prayer : Not indeed in the way in which he expected; not in a complete victory over his corrupt nature, nor at that time in the joy of a conscienee bearing him witness, that in simplicity and godly sincerity he was walking before him : But by bringing Upon him very strong and painful convictions of his own guilt, and helplessness* and misery; by discovering to him, what he did not sus pect before, that his heart was deceitful and desperately wicked ; and, what was more afflicting still, that all his du ties, and labours, and goodness, could not procure for him pardon, or gain him a title to eternal life. Very painful ap prehensions therefore now seized his mind, of what must become of him. In the midst of which, he was often ready to accuse God, as dealing hardly with one who was now no more a profane or careless liver, but seeking in earnest to obey him. But this was the work of the law upon his conscience, and the preparation of his soul for the gospel of peace. Under this he was indeed exceedingly miser able, being buffeted with blasphemous thoughts and horrid temptations : And about this time also two of his parish ioners attempted to make away with themselves, though their lives were remarkably preserved. Being sent for to one of them, the thought struck him, that very possibly he G R I M S H A W. 399 he might ere long do the same, for aught he knew or could do to the contrary. In this state of great trouble he continued more than three years, not daring to acquaint any with the distress he suffered, lest they should report that he was either mad or melancholy. But, by these lasting and deep convic tions being brought to a deep acquaintance with the cor ruptions of his own heart, and to the knowledge of its sin by the law of God, enforced upon him by the Spirit of God, and being therefore made willing to receive salva tion freely, and to consider himself humbly as a brand pluck ed out of the burning; the day of his consolation and knew- ledge of Christ, infinitely precious to his soul, graciously drew near. The bible began nowtoappear quite a new book. He found the rich import of those Scriptures, which declare the sacrifice and righteousness of Christ to be the whole atonement and justification of a sinner before Gojd, and which testify the remission of sins to believers on his name, and sanctification as the blessed effect of this believing, in growing evidence of that remission. " I was now (says he) willing to renounce myself, with every degree of faneied merit and ability, and to embrace Christ only for my all in all. O what light and comfort did I now enjoy in my own soul, and what a taste of the pardoning love of God !" As he was thus taught of God m his own experience, so his preaching, in the year 1742, began to be clear and profitable. He dwelt much in representing the nature and excellencies of Christian faith, and salvation by Christ alone. All this time he was an entire stranger to serious persons, or to those who were the occasion under God of the revival of religion among us. He was also an* entire stranger to their writings, except a single sermon upon Gal. iii. 24, and a letter to the people of England, published bv the Rev. Mr. Seagrave, in which he was surprised to find the nature, life, spirituality, and power of truth and doctrine, in all material points, to be the very 3ame with what he now saw clearly in the word of God, and from which his peace had entirely flowed. Dr. Owen's book on justification was also of great use to him about this time* In the month of May, in the same year, instructed in this manner, Mr. Grimshaw came to the people and church at Haworth near Bradford, in Yorkshire, and very soon the good effects of his preaching became visible among a people ignorant and brutish, as the face of the country is wild and rugged. Many of his careless flock were brought into deep concern for the salvation of their souls, and were filled 400 GRIMSHAW. filled with peace and joy through believing. "And as in ancient times, before preaching was debased by modern re finement, and, alas ! to such a cold and languid exercise, that generally one can scarce observe a decent attention to the minister in the pulpit, his people felt in their hearts a deep conviction of sin ; and the whole congregation have been often seen in tears, on account of their numerous pro vocations against God^ and under a sense of his goodness in yet sparing them, and waiting to be gracious unto therm This lively, powerful manner of representing the truths of God could not fail of being much talked of, and bring ing, out of curiosity, many hundreds to Haworth church : And there they received so much benefit by what they heard, that when the novelty was long over, the church continued to be full of people, many of whom came from far, and this for twenty years together. Indeed, nothing but- this will draw souls heartily together, or (according to the prophet's language) as doves to their windows. Mere morali ty, derived from man's ability, neither comes warm from the heart, nor goes warmly to it. With the trash of human attainments and human endeavours, all fallen, corrupt, fee-". ble, and depraved, no soul living can be satiated. When men preach these, (to use the words of Milton) ' The sheep look up, but are not fed.' / It was the pure truth of the gospel which brought men to reformation from popery, and which only can produce true reformation at any time. It was this which hath drawn thousands from the church to various dissenters, where it hath been preached by them ; and it is the preach ing of this alone, as we have abundant proof, that can fill our churches again. / Mr. Grimshaw was now too happy himself in the know ledge of Christ, to rest satisfied without taking every me thod he thought likely to spread the knowledge of his God and Saviour. And as some indigent people con stantly make their want of better clothes to appear in, an excuse for not coming to church in the day time, when their want would be visible to the whole congregation, he contrived, for their sakes^ a lecture on Sunday evenings, though he preached twice in the former part of the day. In which lecture a chapter or a psalm, after the primitive custom of the Christian church, was expounded, God was pleased to give great success to these attempts, which animated him still more to spend and be spent for Christ's cause : So that the next year he began a method, which was continued by him ever after, of preaching in each of the four hamlets under G R I M S H A W. 401 under his care three times every month. By which means the old and infirm, who could not attend the church, had the truth of God brought to their houses; and many, who were so profane as to make the distance from the house of God a reason for scarce ever coming to it, were allured to hear, and at length received with joy the word of life. By this time, the great attention and labour, With which he instructed his own people ; the circumspection and ho liness of his conversation ; and the lasting benefit, which very many from the neighbouring parishes had obtained, by attending his ministry ; all concurred to bring upon him many earnest entreaties to come to thehouses of others, who lived in neighbouring parishes, and to expound the word of God to souls as ignorant as they were themselves., before they had heard instruction from his lips. As the purest benevolence was the only motive to this request ; so all, who knew Mr. Grimshaw, are assured, (and what others think or say matters not) nothing but love to the souls of men, and a desire of proving a blessing to them, engaged him to preach, as occasions offered, in other pa^- rishes. So that whilst he was one of the most diligent in overseeing, and providing abundantly for all in his own flock, he annually found opportunity of instructing, near three hundred times, large companies, and sometimes large congregations besides. After he had preached for the first time in any place, he commonly thanked the person into whose house or barn he was received, and added, " I hope you will give me leave to come again." / Mr. Grimshaw thus went on preaching fifteen, twenty, andoften thirty times in the week, and that for fifteen years, or upwards, besides visiting the sick, and other occasional duties of his function, j To one of his friends in a neigh*- bouring parish, whose wife had been sick, he thus apolo gized, " I am sorry, that I have not been able to visit your wife : I have not wanted inclination, but time ; for I have had thirty times to preach this week." It is not easy to ascribe such unwearied diligence, and all amongst the poor, or at least very obscure people, to any motive but the real one. He thought his tongue should never lie still in guilty silence, whilst he could speak to the honour of that God, who had done so much for his soul. And whilst he saw sinners perishing for lack of knowledge, and no one breaking to them the bread of life, he was transported by love to pity them, and, notwithstanding the selfish reluctance he felt within, to give up his name to still greater reproach, as well as his time and strength to the work of the ministry. VOL. IV. 3D What 402 GRIMSHAW. What a reflection should this afford to that laziness of heart (to call it by no worse a name,) which thinks the service of God, after naming it in prayer before him, a " perfect freedom," to be a hard burden, and which courts easy duty and large fees only for an indulgence to the flesh, and to hold up a sort of foolish and unmeaningrespectin theworld. During all this intense and persevering application to what was the whole delight of his heart, God was exceed ingly favourable to him ; for, through the space of sixteen years, he was only once suspended from his labours by sickness, though he ventured in all weathers upon the bleak mountains, and used his body with less considera tion, than a merciful man would use his beast. His soul, at various times, enjoyed very large manifestations of Gob's love, that he might not faint ; and he drank deep into his Spirit. His cup ran over, and at some seasons, his faith was so strong and hope so abundant, that higher degrees of spiritual delight would have overpowered his mortal frame. These are the things which sweeten and' which prompt lo duty. In this manner Mr. Grimshaw employed all his talents even to his last illness : And his labours were not in vain in the Lord. He saw an effectual change take place in many of his flock ; a deep sense of evil and good, and a striking restraint, from the commission of sin, brought upon the parish in general. He saw the name of Jesus exalted, and many souls happy in the knowledge of him, and walking as becomes the Gospel of Christ. Happy he was himself, in being kept by the power of God, so unblameable in his conversation, that no one could prove, that he, in any instance, laid heavy burdens upon others, which he him self refused to bear, Happy in being beloved, for several of the last years of his life, by every one in his parish ; who, whether they would be persuaded by him to forsake the evil of their ways, or not, had no doubt that Mr. Grim shaw was their cordial friend, and in every labour of love their servant to command. Hence, at his departure, a general concern was visible through his parish. His behaviour, throughout his last sickness, was all of a piece with the last twenty years of his life. From the very first attaek of his fever, he welcomed the approach of death. His intimate experimental knowledge of Christabolished all the reluctance, which nature usually feels to a dissolution ; and, triumphingin him, whoi» I'll send you money for them the first opportunity. " As to my Creed, so long promised, so long looked for, and so often called for, such as it is, I here send you at last. " I. I believe, that God made man, like all other animals created out of the earth, perfect ; endued him with a reasonable and immortal soul, and united his soul to His Spirit. — Thus created, and thus related to Him self, He laid man under a covenant of works. — This cove nant he was competent of keeping, not by virtue of his cre ated abilities, as the old, particularly the Puritan, divines feign, (for I think there is no clear proof from the Scrip tures for it) but by the power of the Holy Spirit, to Whom he was united. — And " II. I believe so long as his soul kept an eye to the dictates of the Spirit, excited His power, and in so do ing, fulfilled his condition of the said covenant, and kept his natural appetites within bounds ; so longTie continued innocent and happy in Paradise. — But, " III. I believe, that the moment he was prevailed upon by the serpent, at second hand, (viz. by means of his wife) to eat of the forbidden fruit, he died, (that is, he was GRIMSHAW. 409 was divested of his relation to God) — he that instant lost his life, light, power, innocence and happiness. — He be came a mere Ichabod — a dead, dark, helpless, guilty, mi* serable mortal. " IV. I believe, that the way that the old serpent went to effect man's fall, was the very same that he uses at this day. — First he assailed the animal part, and then the rational part, if I may so speak of the man. — Any other way would not answer. — The soul was too near the spi rit, to operate, or attack that first.; — Reasoning with him first will not do. — Alluring the senses must be the first step. — The eye first was allured with the beauty, and then the taste with the sweetness of the apple. — By this means Satan crept nearer the soul, diverted the eye of his mind from God, and got the desired opportunity to reason de ceitfully with him, in the manner recorded in Genesis iii. and gained his point. ** V. I believe, that Adam, by this means reduced in to the above said miserable condition, begot a son in this fallen image, and thence all his posterity in the same, a dead, dark, helpless, guilty and miserable brood. " VI. I believe there was in Adam, and is in every man, an innate principle, which I call Desire of Happi ness. — It may seem, that Satan in reasoning with him chiefly wrought upon this principle to effect his downfall. —And upon this principle in every child of man he chiefly acts to bend them to a sensual gratification of all fleshly and earthly enjoyments. — This is, as I think, what is chiefly meant by natural depravity. -r- And " VII. I believe that while man is seeking happiness a thousand preposterous ways, his mind is filled by the de vil with an utter enmity against God, his will and law, and also with self-sufficiency and pride, and every evil and diabolical temper. And by all these means he is inevitar bly and condignly exposed to the wrath of God and eter nal death and damnation, " VIII. I believe also, that notwithstanding the fall and all jts baleful effects, and though man has utterly lost all power thereby to obey, or perform the condition of the old covenant, yet the Lord did not lose his right and power to command the same obedience: Nor could his justice and holiness, as such, in the least degree dispense with'it. — He could in no wise, consistently with these at tributes, commute, or relax the condition on man's part, r— And yet 410 GRIMSHAW. a IX. I believe, nay I experience, and have done, ever since I was awakened, to my great grief, and self-ab horrence, that though man has lost all power to obey, yet he still loves the scent of the old cask. — Quo semel.est im- buta recens, &c. He is still, silly caitif, proud elf, filthy devil, for do and live. — And thus he became, and natu rally ever will be, averse to all the kind and compassionate intentions and provisions of Divine wisdom, grace and mercy for his redemption and salvation. " X. I believe further, that every actual sin, suppose ever so small a sinful thought, will expose the soul, yea, and the body too, from the last judgment forward to the eternal, intolerable wrath of God : And that the trans gressor's w.hole life, though inwardly and outwardly, and every way, as pure and holy, as that of an arch-angel, will not, cannot prevent it. " XI. I believe further still, that God would he just, were He to send any infant immediately from the womb to hell : Seeing the nature is polluted, and the seeds of evil are in them: — Not only born but conceived, in sin. " XII. I believe, that the blessed Trinity, fore-seeing all this rebellious and wretched fall of man, before his creation, yea, before the foundation of the world, did, out of His infinite wisdom, goodness, compassion and power, and yet consistently with His inexorable and inflexible justice, devise an effectual way of rescuing him from wrath and hell, and restoring him to favour and glory; I call this the new covenant : — This, redemption. In this scheme harmonizes every attribute of the Deity ; yea, justice itself, that knows not to remit the least mite, is become so placable and propitious, as to forgive the confessing penitent all his sins, and to cleanse him from all unrighteousness. " XIII. I believe, that God the Father required, that, in the new covenant, the old covenant should be ful filled, the breach repaired — His violated law mada ho nourable — the curse thereof removed, His justice satisfied — His wrath appeased, and His holiness revered. And this too (though no one in heaven or earth, save His only begotten, God co-equal Son, was competent of) by the very nature, strange to tell ! that had transgressed. — And this, glory be to God, was regular, lawful, right and just. «{ XIV. I belteve therefore, that God, the Son, en gaged to assume our nature, and place Himself in our Jaw-place ; and became GoD-Man, or God manifest in the GRIMSHAW. 411 the flesh. — And this I plainly see was absolutely needful : Because, there was that to be done for us, in order to 're deem and save us ; which, as God, He could ; but as man, He could not : And which, as man, He could ; but, as God, He could not, do. — For " XV. I believe, as God only, He could do ; as man only, he could suffer. — As GoD-Man, He could and Aid fulfil the Law, so as to deserve eternal glory : As Man- God, (if I may so speak) He could and did so suffer, as that His sufferings fully atoned and satisfied divine justice for sin, and effectually delivered us from eternal wrath and misery.— But, if, as man, we must say, He did both do, and suffer ; be it so ; yet as being in union with God, the Divinity so deified and divinely impregnated all His obedience," both active and passive, as rendered it completely competent of the important ends above said. This is that righteousness of God ; so called, because God the Father must require it, and God the Son only could perform it, for our justification, redemption, and salvation. " XVI. I believe, that this very righteousness is suf ficient to redeem all mankind ; but it only is, and will be, imputed to every penitent, believing soul, and that to all intents and purposes, as if He, as indeed He should have done, had Himself performed it. — Glory be to GoDforjfree Grace. — No reason can be assigned forthis; only, He would have mercy; because He would have mercy. " XVII. I believe, in this righteousness, every mem ber of Christ stands, and will stand, complete, irre- proveable and acceptable in God's sight, both at death and judgment — " Jesus, thy Blood and Righteousness, &c." " XVIII. I believe also, that Jesus came to re store to us Adam's losing, the Holy Spirit.— With out this, we are none of His — Without God, Christ, hope in the world — Dead and void of all interest in His merits — To receive and enjoy this, is that new birth : So expedient, that %vithout it we cannot enter into the kingdom of God — A state of grace here, and a state of glory above. — By it, we are sons of God and heirs of that inheritance, which Christ, by His righteousness, hath purchased for us. " XIX, I believe, through this blessed Spirit, therefore, the soul is not only enlivened but enlightened to see and feel her guilty, helpless, and miserable estate, through *1S GRIMSHAW. through original, carnal, actual and self-godly sinning.—" And " XX. I believe, that though it is faith to believe the gospel-report ; for faith comes by hearing : Yet to be fully convinced in conscience, that we are such guilty, helpless, wretched sinners, and obnoxious to the Divine wrath, is eminently that faith, which is said to be the gift of God. By this faith we are cordially enabled to hear, embrace, and lay hold of the righteousness of Christ, to justification, and are conscious thereof. " XXI. I believe that the Holy Spirit is not only a vital, but an instructive and active principle in us also. He witnesseth to our hearts, that we are God's chil dren, and reports to our conscience that we are at peace with God. For though we may have peace with God ; yet conscience, I am persuaded, till informed by the Spi rit, is a stranger to it. , " XXII. I believe, it is by the Spirit we are ena bled, not to eradicate, as some affirm (for that is absurd) but to subjugate the old man : To suppress, not extirpate, the exorbitancies of our fleshly appetites: To resist and overcome the world and the devil; and to grow in grace, gradually, not repentively, [i. e. suddenly, or all at once] unto the perfect and eternal day. — This is all I know, or ac knowledge, to be Christian Perfection, or Sanctification. *' XXIII. I believe, that all true believers, will be daily tempted by the flesh, as well as the world and the devil, even to their lives end ; and that they shall feel an inclination, more or less, to comply, yea, and do comply therewith. — So that the best believer, if He knows what He says, and saysjj the truth, is but a sinner at best. And " XXIV. I believe that their minds are incessantly subject to a thousand impertinent, unprofitable thoughts, even amidst their reading, meditations and prayers ; — -that all their religious exercises are deficient ; — that all their graces, how eminent soever, are imperfect ; that God sees iniquity in all their holy things ; and, though it be grant ed, that they love God with all their hearts, yet they must continually pray with the Psalmist, enter not into judgment with thy servant, &c. But with all " XV. I believe, that Jesus is a full, as well as a free Saviour : The same yesterday, to day, and for ever. He alone is not only the believer's wisdom and righteous ness, but his sanctification and redemption : And in Him isa fountain ever open for sin and uncleanness unto the last breath GRIMSHAW^ 413 ibreath of his life. Here is my daily, necessary privilege, my relief and my comfort. " XXVI. I believe, lastly, that God is faithful and unchangeable : That all His promises are Yea and Amen : That He will never, never, as the apostle's Words are; leave me, will never, never, never forsake me. But, that I, and, all that believe, love and fear Him, shall receive the end of our faith the salvation of our souhi " Here is the sum and substance of my Creed.' — It is at least, what I presume to call, my form of sound words ¦ — In it, I can truly say, I have no respect to men Or books, ancient or modern; but to the Holy Scriptures, reason and experience. — According to this Creed, hitherto I have, and hope, hereafter, so far as I apprehend, to proceed in all my preaching ; debasing man, and exalting my dear Lord in all His offices. If we materially differ, be it so — let brotherly love continue. — I am fixed, being resolved not to have my religion, like some dear men among us of late, to seek, after more than twenty years experience and pro fession. — All that I know of you hitherto, is by your con versation and books, which I cordially love and approve. " I think, we are both agreed to pull, down man, anct when we have the proud chit down, to 'keep him down. For this is the main. — And never let him recover so much as his knees, till with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, the dear Redeemer raise him. He ought to be con vinced, that a good life will no more conduce, than a wicked life, to his justification. — That all that is not of faith, and consequently before faith, is sin. Nor will I allow, that it is any more by good works after grace re ceived, than before, that the believer is saved ; for however our Lord may graciously consider them at the last day — Eternal life is certainly the gift of God through our Lord Jesus Christ — Christ alone has purchased for us, what grace in heart and life makes us meet for— -What have We to boast off — or what have We that We have not received?' — Surely, by grace We are saved. When I die, I shall then have my greatest grief and my greatest joy — My greatest grief, that I have done so little for Jesus ; and my greatest joy that Jesus has done so much for me. My last words' shall be, " Here goes — An unprofitable Servant /" " Pray for me, and I'll pray for you being your, &c. " W. G." 414 B 0 S T W I C K. DAVID BOSTWICK, A.M. J\jLR. David Bostwick, if not a Scotchman born, was at least of Scotch extraction, and bred up in the Pres byterian persuasion. The time of his birth appears to be about the year 1719. When or where he took upon him the office of a pastor, we cannot learn ; but Mr. Smith, in his history of New York, says, that he was translated from Jamaica [a small village upon Long Island] to New York, by a synodical decree, in the year 1757. The place of wor ship where he officiated, stands, or rather stood (for it has been much injured by the civil war in America), near the scite of Trinity Church in that city. This church was wholly demolished by the conflagration, occasioned by some incendiaries among the Americans, after the flight of their army in October 1776. The late Mr. Whitefield preached several times in Mr. Bostwick's meeting-house, while he was at New York. About twelve or fourteen hundred souls composed the congregation under Mr. Bostwick's pastoral care. In this charge he continued from the year above-mentioned to the 12th of November in the year 1763 ; when he was called from the church militant on earth to the church triumphant in heaven. He departed this life in the forty-fourth year of his age, in the misdt of life and of usefulness. But the righteous are often taken away from the evil. The heats, distractions, and bitter ness, which rose about or soon after his death, would have distressed his placid spirit, which was by no means calcu lated to mingle in public confusions, nor, when excited, to appease them. He left a widow with ten children to the goodness of Providence ; and his remains lie buried in the front isle of the meeting-house, where for near seven years he had faithfully preached. In the history of New York above-mentioned, which was written before Mr. Bostwick's decease, the author (in p. 193.) gives this testimony of his character. ' Mr. Bostwick is of a mild, catholic disposition ; and, being a man of piety, prudence and zeal, confines himself entirely to the proper business of his function. In the art of preaching, he is one of the most distinguished clergymen in these parts. His discourses are methodical, sound, and pa thetic ; BOSTWICK. 41* thetic ; in sentiment, and in point of diction, singularly ornamental. He delivers himself without notes, and yet with great ease and fluency of expression, and performs every part of divine worship with a striking solemnity.' The religious world has been blessed with but two pub lications, composed by this excellent man. The one is a sermon, preached by him at Philadelphia, before a synodi- cal meeting, on the 25th of May 1758, and published at their request. The title of it is, Self disclaimed and Christ exalted : And it has since been reprinted by Ma thews in the Strand, London, in the year 1776. The English editor, in an advertisement prefixed, says, ' That it was so cordially received by the audience (which is very seldom the case with heart-searching discourses like this) that, at their earnest desire, it was sent to the press ; and the late Mr. Gilbert Tennent gave it his warm recommen dation.' And very justly. It is a sermon for Minis ters, and enters more deeply into the subtle workings and base motives of the human heart, than any sermon of the kind we have ever seen. It is written with great plain ness, but not with a " slovenly" plainness : On the con trary, it is a perspicuous, methodical, and affectionate dis course, and just such as every sincere minister would wish to speak to his own soul. There are indeed no affected turns, no studied phraseology ; but there is, what is infi nitely better to a spiritual mind, a deep acquaintance with the things of God, and an hearty zeal for the glory of Jesus Christ and the good of souls. It is not carefully or namental, yet sufficiently correct; not tricked off with the! wisdom of the flesh, yet clear and convincing in the de monstration of the Spirit.' Every man, who ventures to" speak for God, would do himself a favour to have this verv excellent sermon in his closet ; as, we might be bold to say, he ought to hold his tongue, if he has not the principles of it engraven upon his heart. The other Tract is entitled, " A fair and rational Vin dication of the Right of Infants to the Ordinance of Bap tism, being the substance of several discourses from Acts ii. 39." This, though a posthumous piece, is an able perform mance ; and perhaps one of the ablest, in a small compass* on that side of the question. We are told by the American editor, ' That the author composed it for the pulpit, and delivered it in sundry sermons, but a few weeks before his decease; which being found to have a very happy effect, in the confirmation and establishmentof some waveringminds- among his own people, he was urged to transcribe his notes for 4iG BOSTWICK. for the press ; but soon after he had begun this work, he* was (as to the particular time of it) unexpectedly called to his superior station in God's temple above. Yet, by a kind providence, a few days before his last illness, a young minister who had a desire to improve himself by Mr. Bostwick's notes, which were written in a kind of short hand of his own invention, applied to him ; and, at his request, Mr. Bostwick spent several hours in teaching him to understand them, and, by his means, the copy was recovered from oblivion.' His character yet lives in New York, though perhaps few men confined themselves more within their circle of duty, or felt more humility, or shewed more freedom from all ostentation. He not only preached the gospel, but lived over what he preached, respected by good men of all denominations. His conversation, led by the Spirit of his meek and lowly Master, breathed nothing but peace and gentleness to all men. He was sorely grieved, when some of his flock became, not fervent Christians, but furious po liticians. Mr. Bostwick's heavenly temper and quiet de portment did not perfectly please these religio-political pro fessors ; for he knew, that his Saviour's kingdom was not of this world, and that it was no part of a Christian minister's duty to entangle himself with it. He abhorred, as he ought* the too frequent mixture of divinity and politics, and much more the abominable turpitude of making the former subservient to the latter. Thus he lived, and thus he died, an example worthy of imitation, but unhappily not followed, even by those for whom his affections and concern were more immediately engaged ! We are obliged for the further account of this great and good man, which we shall subjoin, to the Editor of his " Tract on Baptism." ' As a man, he was something above the middle stature, comely, and welftset, his aspect grave and venerable ; form ed by nature with a clear understanding, quick apprehen sion, prompt elocution, and solid judgment ; his imagina tion strong and lively, and his memory very tenacious. Of all these, he gave the most convincing proofs, both in pub lic and private life. He directed the course of his studies, in a close and intimate subserviency to the great business of his profession. The apostle's direction, Give thyself wholly to these things, might have been his motto. In divinity his great strength lay. He had an admirable discernment of truth and error in their causes, connections, and conse quences ; and believed and taught the pure doctrines of Christianity, BOSTWICK. 417 Christianity, as contained in the Holy Scriptures, and as declared in the public confessions of the reformed churches, in their original and genuine meaning. He beheld his Biblr with reverence, as the grand charter of life eternal. One of the reformed churches distinguished it by this title, Ecce paradisus noster! ' Behold our paradise!' He knew it to be a revelation from God, and the most Wonderful book in the world. He saw its external and internal evi dence, not only by nature's light, aided by human learning, but also by special illumination from above. He con sidered it not only as a system of divine knowledge, but as revealing a practical and experimental discipline ; and felt its vital energy, and had its truth sealed on his heart, with that kind of evidence, which would doubtless have stood the fire upon the severest trial. ' He had those gifts which rendered him a very popular preacher. With a strong commanding voice, his pronun ciation was clear, distinct, and deliberate; his speech and gesture decent and natural, without any affectation ; his lan guage elegant and pure, but with studied plainness, never below the dignity of the pulpit, nor above the capacity of the meanest of his auditory. The strength of his me- feiory, and the flow of his elocution, enabled him to preach without notes, but seldom or never extempore : He fur* nished the lamps of the sanctuary with beaten oil ; and the matter and method of his sermons were well studied. ' In treating divine subjects, he manifested an habitual reverence for the Majesty of heaven, a deep sense of the worth of souls, an intimate knowledge of the human heart, and its various workings in its two-fold state of nature and grace. He dealt faithfully with his hearers, declaring to them the whole counsel of God, shewing them their danger and remedy. — He always spake from a deep sense of the truths he delivered, and declared those things which he had seen and which he had heard, and his hands had handled of the word of life ; and delivered nothing to his auditory but with a solemnity that discovered its importance. * His mind had a poetic turn. His style was copious and florid. He sometimes soared, when his subject would ad mit of it, with an elevated wing ; and his imagination ena bled him to paint the scene, whatever it was, in very strong and lively colours. Few men could describe the hi deous deformity of sin, the misery of man's apostasy from God, the wonders of redeeming love, the glory and riches of divine grace, in stronger lines and more affecting strains than he. VOL. IV. 2 E < In 418 WHITEFIELD. ' In the conduct of life* he was remarkably gentle towards all men, vastly prudent and cautious^ and always behaved with the meekness of wisdom. — He preached not himself, but Christ Jesus his Lord. In this view his eye was single, and he regarded no other object. He knew in whose place he stood, and feared no man. He dared to flash the terrors of the law in the face of the stoutest transgressor, with the same freedom as he displayed the amiable beauties and glo ries of the gospel for the comfort and refreshment of the penitent believer. ' As he highly honoured his divine Master, he was highly favoured by him, of which take one instance : ' In a former illness, from which it was thought he could not recover, which happened some months before he died, he was greatly distressed by a deep concern for his widow and his great family, on the event of bis death. But God was pleased, in a time of great extremity, to grant him a glorious and astonishing view of his power, wisdom, and goodness, and the riches of his grace, with a particular appropriation to himself and his.— Such as dispelled every fear, and ^.t that time rendered him impatient (or averse) to live ; but at length, on his recovery, which commenced immediately on the removal of this distress, his mind settled into a divine calm : He seemed equally willing to live or die, as Go» pleased. In this temper lie continued to. his last moment, when placidly he resigned his soul and all hi* mortal interests, into the hands of his Saviour and his God ! Such intercourse sometimes passes between the Father of Spirits and the human spirit, and such honour have they that fear God 1' GEORGE WHITEFIELD, A. B. ^CARCE any man since the apostolic age, has more fully met with at least the treatment of the apostles, men tioned by St. Paul, than the subject of the present memoir : For the exercise of their ministry was, indeed, by honour and dishonour, by evil report and good report; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, andyet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful? yet alway rejoicing; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things, 2 Cor. vi. 8, &c. They who can justly solve this paradox, froTtum.oritfmall'ictiire ui Juptfitfdmt of John, Grove- £/!f.3J3l&euik,1 WHITFE1ELD, 419 paradox, may be able to understand at the same time the real character and conduct of the late Mr. Whitefield. This pious and extraordinary minister was born at Gloucester, Dec. 16, 1714. His father, who was bred to the wine trade at Bristol, removed from thence to Gloucester, and kept an inn. He had six sons and one daughter. Of the sons, George was the youngest, who was only two years old when his father died, and he was brought up with great tenderness by* his mother. The world is indebted for a well-drawn life of this ex cellent man to the Reverend Dr. Gillies of Scotland. We cannot enter into all the particulars so minutely or exactly "as that candid and valuable Biographer; and yet we wish, to give as much of so important and remarkable a life, as can consist with a plan of so much generality as that of our volumes. We shall be excused then if we extract or abridge those parts of that excellent performance, which comport the most with our design, or which may most edify and inform our pious readers. It appears, that Mr. Whitefield was very early under se rious impressions; but he acknowledged with compunction* what every body must feel whether they acknowledge it or not* that the bent of our carnal nature is turned directly from God, and inclined only to nothing but evil, -When he was between twelve and fifteen^ he bad made' some progress in classical learning; and, we are told, that even then his eloquence began to appear in some puerile compositions, written for the amusement of his school-fel lows. But his rising genius was deprived of the usual means of improvement, through the decrease of his mo ther's trade ; and he was obliged to assist her in carrying on the business of the inn. His turn of mind, however^ though depressed, could not be extinguished; and in this very unfavourable situation, we are told* that he composed several sermons, and that the impressions of religion were very strong upon him. When he was about seventeen, he received the sacrament, and employed as much of his time as, he could in prayer and reading, in fasting and medita tion, and in all those devout exercises, which are the food and the delight at once of every religious minchs About eighteen, he entered at Pembroke College in Ox ford, and soon became acquainted with some serious young men, who, from certain rules and methods of life which they prescribed themselves, received in ridicule the name of methodists^an appellation,, once honourably bestowed upon some ancient physicians who acted also in their way upon 420 WHITEFIELD. upon a methodical plan of procuring and establishing health. These serious young men had no apprehension, however, of erecting a new sect under this or any other name ; but, according to the practice of some of the first reformers in the church of England, they meant only to revive such usages of private devotion, as the indifference of the times to all religion, and the growing licentious ness among churchmen especially, had rendered not only obsolete, but (with concern it must be spoken) prodigious, ridiculous, or extravagant. He knows but little of the persons who brought in and supported the Reformation, who does not know, that no strictness of life nor rules of devotion exercised Jby these young men, could be more me thodical and precise than those of the persons who either planted our English church, supported it against Popery, or watered it whh their blood. These youths appeared in deed in a very unfavourable time; for, at that time, serious and practical Christianity in England was in a very low condition; scriptural, experimental religion, (which in the last century used to be the subject of the sermons and writ ings of the clergy) was become quite unfashionable; and the only thing insisted on was a defence of the out-works of Christianity against the objections of infidels. What was the consequence? The writings of infidels multiplied every day, and infidelity made a rapid progress among persons of every rank, not because they were reasoned into it by the force of argument, but because they were kept strangers to Christ and the power of the gospel. We have a most affecting description of this by Bishop Butler, whom none will suspect of exaggerating the fact : ' It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by many persons, that Christianity is not so much a subject of inquiry, but that it is, now at length, discovered to be fictitious ; and accordingly they treat it, as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment, and no thing remained but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule ; as it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world.' Such was the state of religion in England. Mr. Whitefield soon fell in with the pious views and manners of these young men, among whom were the bro thers, Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, and whom, from this early intercourse of heart, he continued to regard all his life, notwithstanding their future differences in opinion from himself, and departure in principle from the doctrines of the church of England. He even carried his method of life to such severity of abstinence, as to endanger his health ; WHITEFIELD. 421 health; hut, by timely assistance, he was recovered inbody, while his soul, being filled with all joy and peace in believ ing, contributed no doubt to his restoration. In retiring to Gloucester for the benefit of his native air, he was zealous. to improve the time to the advantage of others, and em ployed himself among the poor and in the gaol, by incul cating the principles and duties of the Christian religion. Being now about 21 years of age, he was sent for by. Doctor Benson, Bishop of Gloucester; who told him, 'That though he had purposed to ordain none under three-and- twenty, yet he should reckon it his duty to ordain him whenever he applied. Upon which, at the earnest persua sion of his friends, he prepared for taking orders. His be haviour on this occasion was very exemplary. He first stu died the Thirty-nine Articles, that he might be satisfied of their being agreeable to Scripture. Then, he examined himself by the qualifications of a minister mentioned in the New Testament, and by the questions that he knew were to be put to him at his ordination. On the Saturday, he was much in prayer for himself and those who were to be ordained with him. On the morning of his ordination, (which was at Gloucester, Sunday, June 20, 1736) he rose early, and again read, with prayer, St. Paul's epistles to Timothy, and, after his ordination, went to the Lord's table. On the Sunday afterwards he preached a sermon in the church where he was baptized, to a very crowded auditory, on the necessity and benefit of religious society. His own re mark upon this was : " Last Sunday, in the afternoon, I preached my first sermon in the church where I was baptiz ed, and also-first received the sacrament-of the Lord's Supper . Curiosity drew a large congregation together. The sight, at first, a little awed me. But I was comforted with a heart-felt sense of the divine presence : And soon found the advantage of having been accustomed to public speak ing, when a boy at school ; and of exhorting and teach ing the prisoners, and poor people at their private houses, whilst at the University. By these means, I was kept from being daunted over much. As I proceeded, I perceived the fire kindled, till at last, though so young, and amidst a crowd of those who knew me in my childish days, I trust, I was enabled to speak with some degree of Gospel autho rity. Some few mocked ; but most for the present seemed struck : And I have since heard, that a complaint had been made to the Bishop, that I drove fifteen mad the first ser mon. The worthy prelate, as I am informed, wished that the madness might not be forgotten before next Sunday." The WHITEFIELD. The week following, he returned to Oxford, and took his bachelor's degree. And here he found full employment in taking care of the prisoners and the poor. But it was not long before he was invited to London, to serve the cure of a friend going into the country. He continued there two months, lodging in the tower, reading prayers in the chapel twice a-week, catechizing and preaching once, be sides daily visiting the soldiers in the barracks and the in firmary. He also read prayers every evening at Wapping Chapel, and preached at Ludgate Prison every Tuesday. While he was here, letters came from the Messrs. Wes- leys and Ingham in Georgia, which made him long to go and help them. But not seeing his call clear, at the ap pointed time he returned -to his little charge at Oxford, where several youths met daily at his room, to build up each other in their most holy faith. But he was quickly called from hence again, to supply the cure of Dummer in Hampshire. Here he read prayers twice a-day, early in the morning, and in the evening, after the people came from work. He also daily catechized the children, and visited from house to house. He now divided the day into three parts, allotting eight hours for sleep and meals, eight for study and retirement, and eight for reading prayers, catechizing, and visiting the people. Yet his mind still ran on going abroad. And being now fully convinced he was called of God thereto, he set all things in order, and, in January 1737, went down to take leave of his friends in Gloucester. It was in this journey that God began to bless his ministry in an uncommon manner. Wherever lie preached, amazing multitudes of hearers flocked toge ther, in Gloucester, in Stonehouse, in Bath, in Bristol; so that the heat of the churches was scarce supportable : And the impressions made on the minds of many were no less extraordinary. After his return to London, while he was detained by General Oglethorpe, from week to week, and from month to month, it pleased God to bless his word still more. And he was indefatigable in his labour: Generally on Sunday he preached four times, to exceed ing large auditories ; besides reading prayers twice or thrice, and walking to and fro ten or twelve miles. As his popularity increased, opposition increased propor- tionably. Some of the clergy became angry ; two of them sent for him, and told him, they would not let him preach in their pulpits any more, unless he renounced that part of the preface of his sermon on Regeneration, (lately published) wherein he wished " that his brethren would entertain their auditories. W H I T E FIELD. 423 auditories oftener with discourses upon the new-birth." Probably some of them were irritated the more, by his free conversation with many of the serious dissenters, who in vited him to their houses, and repeatedly told him, ' That if the doctrines of the new-birth, and justification by faith, were preached powerfully in the churches, there would be few dissenters in England.' Nor was he withr out opposition even from some of his friends. But under these discouragements, he had great comfort in meeting every evening with a band of religious intimates, to spend an hour in prayer, for the advancement of the Gospel, and for all their acquaintance, so far as they knew their cir cumstances. In this he had uncommon satisfaction: Once he spent a whole night with them in prayer and praise ; and sometimes at midnight, after he had been quite wearied with the labours of the day, he found his strength renew ed in this exercise, which made him compose his sermon upon Intercession. The nearer the time of his embarkation approached, the more affectionate and eager the people grew. Thousands and thousands of prayers were put up for him. They would run and stop him in the alleys of the churches, and follow him with wishful looks. But above all, it was hardest for him to part with his weeping friends at St. Dunstan's, where he helped to administer the sacrament to them, after spending the night before in prayer : This parting was to him almost insupportable. On December the 28th, he left London. It was on the 29th that he first preached without notes. December the 30th he went on board ; but it was above a month before they cleared the land. One happy effect of their very slow passage, he mentions in April following: " Blessed be God, we now live very comfortably in the great cabin. We talk of little else but God and Christ : And scarce a word is heard among us when together, but what has re ference to pur fall in the first, and our new birth in the' second Adam." It seems likewise to have been a peculiar providence, that he should spend a little time at Gibral tar, where both citizens and soldiers, - high and low, young and old, acknowledged the day of their visitation. He arrived at the parsonage-house at Savannah, May 7, 1738, about four months after his first embarkation at Deptford. Upon this voyage (many years after) he made the following reflection: ¦'? A long, and, I trust, not alto gether unprofitable voyage. What shall I render to the Lord for all his mercies ? Besides being strengthened to go through my public work, I was enabled to write letters, and WHITEFIELD, and compose sermons, as though I had been on land. Evea at this distance of time, the remembrance of the happy hours I enjoyed in religious exercises on the deck, is re freshing to my soul. And though nature sometimes re lented at being taken from my friends, and little unusual inconveniences of a sea-life ; yet, a consciousness that I had in view the glory of God, and the good of souls, from time to time afforded me unspeakable satisfaction." From Sunday, May 7, 1738, till the latter end of August following,, he made full proof of bis ministry in Georgia, particularly at Savannah: He read prayersj and expounded twice a-day, and visited the sick daijly. On Sunday he ex pounded at five in the morning ; at ten read prayers and preached, and at three in the afternoon : And at, seven in the evening expounded the church-catechism. How much easier is it for our brethren in the ministry, either in Eng land, Scotland, or Ireland, to find fault with such a labou rer in our Lord's vineyard, than to tread in his steps ? It was now that he observed the deplorable condition of many children here; and now the first thought entered his mind of founding an Orphan House, for which he determined to raise contributions in England, if God shoidd give him. a safe return thither. In December following, after a peril ous passage by Ireland, he did return to London : And on Sunday, January the 14th, 1739, he was ordained priest byhis friend Bishop Benson, at Christ Church, Oxford. The next day he came to London again; and on Sunday the: 21st preached twice. But though the churches were lairge, and crowded exceedingly, yet many hundreds stood in the church-yards, and hundreds more returned home. This put him upon the first thought of preaching in the open air. But when he mentioned it to some of his friends, theyjudged it to be mere madness. So he did not carry it into execution, till after he had left London. It was on Wednesday, February 21, that finding all the church doors to be shut against him in Bristol, (beside that no church was able, to contain one half of the congregation)' at three in the afternoon he went to Kingswood, and preached abroad, to near two thousand people. The colliers, he had heard, were very rude, and very numerous; so unculti vated, that no body cared to go among them; neither had they any place of worship ; and often, when provoked, they were a terror to the whole city of Bristol. He there fore looked upon the civilizing of these people, and much more, the bringing of them to the profession and practice pf Christianity, as a matter of great importance. " I thought WHITEFIELD. thought (says he) it might be doing the service of my Creator, who had a mountain for his pulpit, and the hea vens for his sounding board ; and who, when his gospel was refused by the Jews, sent his servants into the highways and hedges." After much prayer, and many struggles with himself, he one day went to Hannam Mount, and, standing upon a hill, began to preach to about a hundred colliers, upon Matth. v. 1,2, 3. This soon took air. At the se cond and third time the numbers greatly increased, till the congregation, at a moderate computation, amounted to near twenty thousand. But with what gladness and eager ness many of these despised outcasts, who had never been in a church in their lives, received the word, is above description. " Having (as he writes) no righteousness of their own to renounce, they were glad to hear of a Jesus who was a friend to publicans, and came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. The first discovery of their being affected, was to see the white gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down their black cheeks, as they came out of their coal-pits. Hundreds and hundreds of them were soon brought under deep con victions, which (as the event proved) happily ended in a sound and thorough conversion. The change was visible to all, though numbers chose to impute it to any thing ra ther than the finger of God. As the scene was quite new, and I had just began to be an extempore preacher, it often occasioned many inward conflicts. Sometimes, when twenty thousand people were before me, I had not, in my own apprehension, a word to say, either to God or them. But I was never totally deserted, and frequently (for to deny it would be lying against God) so assisted, that I knew by happy experience what our Lord meant by say ing, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. The open firmament above me, the prospect of the adjacent fields, with the sight of thousands and thousands, some in coaches, some on horseback, and some in the trees, and at times all affected and drenched in tears together, to which sometimes was added the solemnity of the approaching even ing, was almost too much for, and quite overcame me." Besides the colliers, and thousands from neighbouring villages, persons of all ranks flocked daily out of Bristol. And he was soon invited to preach, by some of the better"' sort, in a large bowling-green in the city itself. Many in deed sneered, to see a stripling, with a gown, mount a table upon what they called unconsecrated ground. And for once, or twice, it excited the contempt and laughter Pf 426 WHITEFIELD. of the higher ranks, who formerly were his admirers when he preached in the churches. But God enabled him to stand the laugh, and to preach the gospel of Christ with earnestness and constancy; and was pleased toattend it with his blessing. From all quarters people flocked, under great concern about their souls. On Friday he preached there to four or five thousand, and on Sunday to (it was supposed) ten thousand. The number continually increased all the time he staid at Bristol. And a flame of holy love was kindled, which will not easily be put out. The same was afterwards kindled in various parts of Wales, of Glouces tershire, and Worcestershire. Indeed, wherever he went, God abundantly confirmed the word of his messenger. On Sunday, April 29, he preached the first time in Moorfields, andon Kennington Common. Opportunities of preaching in a more regular way being now denied him, and his preaching in the fields being attended with a re markable blessing, he judged it his duty to go on in this practice, and ventured the following Sunday into Moor fields. Public notice having been given, and the thing being new and singular, upon coming out of the coach he found an incredible number of people assembled. Many had told him that he should never come again out of that place alive. He went in, however, between two of his friends, who, by the pressure of the crowd, were soon parted entirely from him, and were obliged to leave him to the mercy of the rabble. But these, instead of hurting him, formed a lane for him, and carried him along to the middle of the fields, (where a table had been placed, which was broken in pieces by the crowd) and afterwards back again to the wall that then parted the upper and lower Moorfields, from whence he preached without molestation, to an exceeding great multitude in the lower fields. Finding such encou ragement, he went that same evening to Kennington Com mon, a large open place near three miles distant from Lon don, where he preached. to a vast multitude, who were all attention, and behaved with as much regularity and quiet ness as if they had been in a church. Being again detained in England from month to month, he made little excur sions into several counties, and received the contributions of willing multitudes, foran Orphan-house in Georgia. The embargo, which was then laid on the shipping, gave him leisure for more journies through various parts of England. At length, on August the 14th, 1739, he embarked. But he did not land in Pensylvania till October the 30th. Af terwards he went through Pensylvania, the Jerseys, New York, WHITEFIELD. 427* York, and back again to Maryland, Virginia, North and South Carolina, preaching all along to immense congre gations, with full as great effect as in England ; and on January the 11th, 1740, he arrived at Savannah. January the 29th he added three desolate orphans to near twenty which he had in his house before. The next day he laid out the ground for the house, about ten miles from Savannah. February the 11th he took in four orphans more, and set out for Frederica in order to fetch the orphans that were in the southern parts of the colony. In his return he fixed a school, both for children and grown persons, at Darien, and took four orphans thence. March the 25th he laid the first stone of the Orphan-house, to which, with great propriety, he gave the name of Bethesda. He had now about forty orphans, so that there were near an hun dred mouths to be fed daily. But he was careful for no thing, casting his Care on Him who feedeth the young ravens that call upon him. In April he made another tour through Pensylvania, the Jerseys, and New-York. Incredible mul titudes flocked to hear, among whom were abundance of negroes. In all places the greater part of the hearers were affected to an amazing degree. Many were deeply con vinced pf their lost state ; many truly converted to God. He returned to Savannah June the 5th. The next even ing, during the public service, the whole congregation, young and old, were dissolved in tears : And others, who came to visit them, were deeply impressed. In August he set out again by sea, and through Rhode Island, where he preached to large congregations, he came to Boston. While he was here, and in the neighbouring places, he was ex tremely weak in body. Yet the multitudes of hearers were so great, and the effects wrought on them so astonishing, as the oldest men then alive in the town had never seen before. He set out next for Northampton : Having read in England an account of a remarkable work of conversion there, published by their pastor the Rev. Mr. Jonathan Edwards ; and having a great desire to see him and to hear the account from his own mouth. At Concord, Sudbury, Marlborough, Worcester, Leicester, Hadley, places all ly ing in the way, pulpits and houses were every where open ed, and a continued influence attended his preaching. At Northampton, when he came to remind them of what God had formerly done for them, it was like putting fire to tinder. Both minister and people were much moved ; as were the children of the family, at an exhortation which their father desired Mr. Whitefield to give them. After WHITEFIELD. After leaving Northampton, he preached in Westfield, Springfield, Suffield, Windsor, Hertford, Weathersfield, Middleton, and Wallingford, to large and affected congre gations. And October 23, reached Newhaven, where he was affectionately received by Mr. Pierpoint, brother-in- law to Mr. Edwards, and had the pleasure of seeing his friend Mr. Noble of New- York, who brought him letters from Georgia. Here also he was much refreshed with the conversation of several gospel ministers. It being assembly time, and the governor and burgesses then sitting, he staid till Lord's Day, and had the pleasure to see numbers daily impressed. The good old governor was particularly much affected; and at a private visit which Mr. Whitefield paid him, said, " Thanks be to God for such refreshings in our way to heaven." On Monday morning he set forward, and preached with his usual success at Milford, Stratford, Fairfield, Newark, and Stanford, where he was- visited by- some ministers under deep concern. This was on the bor ders of New-York province, into which he now again en tered, and preached at Rye and Kingsbridge on his way to the city of New- York, where he arrived October 30. Here for three days successively, and afterwards at Staten Island, Newark, Baskenridge, his preaching appeared to be at tended with iriore suceess than ever. At Trenton he had a long conference with some ministers about Mr. Gilbert Tennent's complying with an invitation to go and preach in New-England. After prayer, and considering, the argu ments both for and against this proposal, they thought it best he should go; which, however diffident of himself, he was persuaded to do. And his ministrations were at tended with an extraordinary blessing to multitudes in that extensive colony. Saturday, November 8, Mr. Whitefield came back to Phi ladelphia, and next day preached to several thousands in a house built for that purpose since his last departure. Here he both heard of, and saw many, who were the fruits of his former ministrations; and continued among them till No vember 17, preaching twice a-day. Afterwards he preached in Gloucester, Greenwich, Piles Grove, Cohansie, Salem, Newcastle, Whiteley Creek, Fog's Manor, Nottingham, in many or most of which places the congregations were nume rous and deeply affected. November 22, he got to Bohemia in Maryland, and from thence he went to Reedy Island. At both places his preaching was attended with great influence. And at the last place (their sloopbeing detained by contrary winds near a week) he preached frequently. All the cap tains WHITEFIELD. 429 tains and crews of the ships that were wind-bound con stantly attended, and great numbers crowded ©rat of the country, some as far as from Philadelphia : And as great concern as ever came upon their minds. December I, he set sail from Reedy Island for Charlestown in South Carolina, and here he makes the following remark : " It is now the seventy-fifth day since I arrived at Rhode Is land. My body was then weak, but the Lord hath much renewed its strength. I have been enabled to preach, I think, an hundred and seventy-five times in public, besides exhorting frequently in private. I have travelled upwards of eight hundred miles, and gotten upwards of seven hun dred pounds sterling in goods, provisions, and money, for the Georgia orphans. Never did I perform my journeys with so little fatigue, or see such a continuance of the di vine presence in the congregations to whom I have preach ed. Praise the Lord, O my soul.1' After a pleasant pas sage of eight or nine days, and preaching again at Charles- town and Savannah, he arrived on the 14th of December at the Orphan House, where he found his family comfort ably settled. At Rhode Island he had providentially met with one Mr. Jonathan Barber, whose heart was very much knit to him, and who was willing to help him at the Or phan House. Him, therefore, be left superinteridant for the spiritual, and Mr. Habersham for the temporal affairs; and having spent a very comfortable Christmas with his orphan family, he set off again for Charlestown, where he arrived January 3, 1741, and preached twice every day as Usual, to most affectionate auditories, till the 16th of Ja nuary, when he went on board for England. He arrived the 11th of March at Falmouth, rode post to London, and preached at Kennington Common the Sunday following. The new and unexpected situation in which he now found himself, will be best described in his own words: " But what a trying scene appeared here ! In my zeal, during my journey through America, I had written two well meant, though injudicious letters, against England's two great favourites, " The Whole Duty of Man," and " Archbishop TiUotson," who, I said, knew no more of religion than Mahomet. The Moravians had made in roads upon the societies. Mr. John Wesley, some way or other, had been prevailed on to preach and print in favour of perfection and universal redemption ; and very strong ly against election,: — a doctrine, which I thought, and do now believe was taught me of God, therefore could not possibly recede from. Thinking it my duty so to do, I had 430 WHITEFIELD. had written an answer at the Orphan House* which though revised, and much approved of by some good and judicious divines, I think had some too strong expressions about absolute reprobation, which the apostle leaves rather to be inferred than expressed. The world was angry at me for the former, and numbers of my own spiritual children for the latter. One that got some hundreds of pounds by my sermons, being led away by the Moravians, refused to print for me any more. And others wrote to me, that God would destroy me in a fortnight; and that my fall was as great as Peter's. Instead of having thousands to attend me, scarce one of my spiritual children came to see me from morning to night. Once at Kennington Common, I had not above a hundred to hear me. At the same time, I was much embarrassed in my outward circumstances. A thousand pounds I owed for the Orphan House. Two hundred and fifty pounds bills, drawn upon Mr. Seward, now dead, were returned upon me. I was also threaten ed to be arrested for two hundred pounds more. My travelling expences also to be defrayed. A family of a hundred to be daily maintained, four thousand miles off, in the dearest place of the King's dominions. " Ten thousand times would I rather have died, than' part with my old friends. It would have melted any heart to have heard Mr. C. Wesley and me weeping, after prayer, that, if possible, the breach might be prevented. Once I E reached in the Foundery, (aplaee which Mr. John Wesley ad procured in my absence) on Gal. iii. but no more. All my work was to begin again. One day I was exceedingly refreshed in reading Beza's life of Calvin, wherein were these words: ' Calvin is turned out of Geneva, but behold a new church arises.' A gentlewoman lent me three hundred pounds to pay the present Orphan House demand : And a serious person (whom I never saw or heard of) giving me one guinea, I had such confidence, that I ran down with it to a friend, and expressed my hope, that God who sent this person with a guinea, would make it up fifteen hun dred, which was the sum I thought would be wanted. Never had I preached in Moorfields on a week day. But in the strength of God, I began on Good-Friday, and continued twice a-day, walking backward and forward from Leadenhall, for some time preaching under one of the trees, and had the mortification of seeing numbers of my spiritual children, who but a twelvemonth ago could have plucked out their eyes for me, running by me whilst preach ing, disdaining so much as to look at me, and some of them putting WHITEFIELD. 431 putting their fingers in,their ears, that they might not hear one word I said. A like scene opened at Bristol, where I was denied preaching in the house I had founded: Busy bodies on both sides, blew up the coals. A breach ensued. But as both sides differed in judgment, and not in affec tion, and aimed at the glory of our common Lord; though we hearkened too much to tale-bearers on both sides, we were kept from anathematizing each other, and went on in our usual way; being agreed in one point, endeavour ing to convert souls to the ever-blessed Mediator." In consequence of this, one Mr. Cennick, a preacher, who could not fall in with Mr. Wesley's sentiments, and one or two more in like circumstances, having joined Mr. Whitefield, they began a new house in Kingswood, ar.d soon established a school among them that favoured Cal- vinistical principles. And here, and in several other pla ces, they preached to very large and serious congregations,- in the same manner as he had done in America. Thither he intended to return as soon as possible. Mean time, it. being inconvenient, on account of the weather, to preach morning and evening in Moorfields, some free-grace dis senters (who stood by him closely in that time of trial) got the loan of a piece of ground, and engaged with a carpen ter to build alarge temporary shed, to screen the auditory from cold and rain, which he called a Tabernacle, as it was only intended to be made use of for a few months, during his stay in his native country. The place fixed upon was very near the Foundery, which he disliked, because he thought it looked like erecting altar against altar; but up on this occasion he remarks, " All was wonderfully over ruled for good, and for the furtherance of the gospel. A fresh awakening immediately began. Congregations grew exceeding large, and, at the people's desire, I sent (neces sity reconciling me more and more to lay-preaching) for Messrs. Cennick, Harris, Seagrave, Humphries, &c. &c. to assist." Fresh doors were now opened to him, and in vitations sent to him from many places where he had never been. At a common, near Braintree in Essex, upwards of ten thousand persons attended. At Halstead, Dedham, Coggeshall, Wethersfield, Colchester, Bury, Ipswich, the congregations were very large and much affected. At this time also, he was strongly solicited by religious per sons, of different persuasions, to visit Scotland. Several letters had passed between him and the Messrs. Erskines, some time before, and he had a great desire to see them. He therefore took his passage from London to Leith, where 482 WHITEFIELD. where (after five days, which he employed in writing many excellent letters to his orphans, &c. see Letter cccxi. to cecxxsvii.) he arrived July 30, 1741. Several persons of distinction most gladly received him, and would have had him preach at Edinburgh directly; but he was determin ed that the Rev. Messrs. Erskines should have the first offer, and therefore went immediately to Dunfermline, and preached in Mr. Erskine's meeting-house. Great persuasions were used to detain him at Dunfermline, and as great to keep him from preaching for and visiting the Rev. Mr. Wardlaw, who had been colleague to Mr. Ralph Erskine above twenty years, and who, as well as the Rev. Mr. Davidson, adissenting minister in England, that went along with Mr. Whitefield, were looked upon as perjured, for not adhering to the solemn league and cove nant. This was new language to him, and therefore un intelligible. But that he might be better informed, it was proposed that the Rev. Mr. Moncrieff, Mr. Ebene- zer Erskine, and others, members of the Associate Pres bytery, should convene in a few days, in order to give him farther light. In the mean time, Mr. Ralph Erskine ac companied him to Edinburgh, where he preached in the Orphan House Park (field-preaching being no novelty in Scotland) to a very large and affected auditory, upon these words : The Kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. The next day he preached in the West Kirk, and expressed great pleasure in hearing two gospel sermons from the Rev. Mr. Gusthart and the Rev. Mr. M'Vicar. And the following day he preached in the Canongate church, where Mr. Ralph Erskme went up with him into the pulpit. According to promise, he returned with him to Dun fermline, where Mr. E. Erskine, and several of the Asso ciate Presbytery, were met together. When Mr, Whitefield came, they soon proposed to proceed to business. He asked them, for what purpose? They answered, to discourse, and set him right about church-government, and the solemn league and covenant. He replied, they might save them selves that trouble, for he had no scruple about it; and that settling church-government, and preaching about the so lemn league and covenant, was not his plan. He then told them something of his experience, and how be was led into his present way of acting. One of them, in particular, said he, was deeply affected. And Mr. E. Erskine desired they would have patience with him, for that having been born and bred in England, and never studied the point, he could WHITEFIELD. 433 could not be supposed to be perfectly acquainted with it. But Mr. M. insisted, that he was therefore more inex cusable, for England had revolted most with respect to church government ; and that he, being born and educated there, could not but be acquainted with the matter in deT bate. Mr. Whitefield told him, he had never yet made the solemn league and covenant the subject of his study, being too busy about matters which he judged of greater importance. Several replied, that every pin of the taber nacle was precious. He answered, that in every buildings there were outside and inside workmen ; that the latter, at present, was his province ; that if they thought themselves called to the former, they might proceed in their own way and he would proceed in his. He then asked them seriously, what they would have him to do ? The answer was, that he was not desired to subscribe immediately to the solemn league and covenant, but to preach only for them, till he had further light. He asked, why only for them ? Mr> R. E. said, ' They were the Lord's people.' He then asked, Were no other the Lord's people but themselves ? If not, and if others were the devil's people, they had more need to be preached to ; that for his part, all places were alike to him ; and that if the Pope himself would lend him his pulpit, he would gladly proclaim in it the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ. Something passed about taking two of their brethren with him to England, to settle presbytery there ; and then with two more, to go and settle presbytery in America. But he asked, suppose a num ber of independents should come, and declare, that after the greatest search, they were convinced that independency was the right church government, and would disturb no body, if tolerated, — should they he tolerated ? They an swered, No. — Soon after this the company broke up. And Mr. M. preached upon Isa. xxi. 11, 12. " Watchman^ what of the night ? &c. And took occasion to declaim strongly against the ceremonies of the church of England* and to argue,* ' That one who held communion with that church, or with the backslidden church of Scotland, could hot be an instrument of reformation.' The consequence of * " I attended ; but the good man so spent himself in the former part of his sermon, in talking against prelacy, the Common Prayer-Book, the surplic«j the rose in the hat, and such like externals, that when he came to the latter part of his text, to invite poor sinners' to Jesus Christ, his breath ^as so gone, that he could scarce be heard. Wbat a pity, tiiat the luit was not first, and the first last !" Letter cccxxxix. VOL. IV. 2 F 434 W H I T E E I E L D'. of all this was an open breach. Mr. Whitefield retired thoughtfid and uneasy to his closet, and after preaching in the fields, sat down and dined with them, and then took a final leave.* Many waited at Edinburgh to know the issue of the con ference, who were not disappointed in the event. Thi ther he returned, after preaching at In verkeithing, and the Queensferry; and continued preaching always twice, often thrice, (and oneey seven times a-day) for some weeks toge ther. The churches were open, but not being able to hold half the congregations, he generally preached twice a-day in the Orphan Hospital Park to many thousands. Persons of the best fashion, as well as of the meaner rank, at tended ;-f- at some of their houses he generally expounded every evening. And every day, almost, there were new evidences of the success of his labours. Numbers of mi nisters and students came to hear him, and aged, expe rienced Christians told him, they could set their seal to what he preached. In this first visit to Scotland, he preached at Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Dundee, Paisley, Perth, Stirling, Crieff, Falkirk, Ayr, Kinglassie, Cul- ross, Kinross, Cupar of Fife; and also at Stonehive, Ben- holm, Montrose, Brechin, Forfar, Cupar of Angus ; and at Inverkeithing, Newbattle, Galashiells, Maxton, and Haddington; and in the west country, at Killearn, Fintry, and Balfrone. To other places to wljich he was invited, he did not go at this time. But (having collected above five hundred pounds in money and goods for his orphans,) he left Edinburgh in the latter end of October, to go through Wales, in his way to London. After having gone through evil report and good report in Scotland, Mr. Whitefield left Edinburgh in October 1741, and travelled to Abergavenny in Wales, where, in consequence of a former resolution, he married Mrs. James, a widow lady of that place. From thencehe went to Bristol, where, * " Having dropt something about persons building a Babel, Mis tress — — said, ' It was a hard saying.* Upon which I re plied, " I feared it was a true one, and that they would find the Ba- b*.l fall down about their ears. I was never received into their house any more. Thus was I called to make another sacrifice of my affec tions. But what I had met with in England, made" this the more easy." Letter cccxlvii. •f Amongst his particular friends were the Marquis of Lothian, the Karl of Leven, Lord Rae, Lady Mary Hamilton, Lady Frances Gardiner, Lady Jean Niromo, Lady Dirletoo. See his Letters from August to De- pember 1741. WHITEFIELD. 435 where he preached twice a-day with his usual success. After various excursions into the country, he went to London in the spring of the year 1742, and now ventured to take a very extraordinary step. It had been the custom for many years past, in the holiday seasons, to erect booths in Moor fields, for mountebanks, players, puppet-shows, &c; which were attended from morning till night by innumerable multitudes of the lower sort of people. He formed a resolution to preach the gospel among them, and execut ed it. On Whitmonday , at six o'clock in the morning, attended by a large congregation of praying people, he began. Thou sands, who were, waiting there, gaping for their usual di versions, all flocked round him. His text was John iii. 14. They gazed, they listened, they wept : And many seemed to be stung with deep conviction for their past sins. All jvas hushed and solemn. " Being thus encouraged, (says he) I ventured out again at nOon, when the fields were quite full ; and could scarce help smiling to see thousands.; when a merry-andrew was trumpeting to them, upon ob serving me mount a stand on the other side of the fieldj deserting him, till not so much as one was left behind, but all flocked to hear the gospel. But this, together with a complaint that they had takenneartwenty or thirty pounds less that day than usual, so enraged the owners of the booths, that when I came to preach a third time in the evening, in the midst of the sermon, a merry-andrew got up upon a man's shoulders, and advancing near the pulpitj attempted to slash me with a long heavy whip several times. Soon afterwards they got a recruiting serjeant with his drum, &c. to pass through the congregation. But I de sired the people to make way for the King's officer, which was quietly done. Finding these efforts to fail, a large body, quite on the opposite side, assembled together, and having got a great pole for their standard, advanced with sound of drum, in a very threatening manner, till they c-me near the skirts of the congregation. Uncommon courage was given both to preacher and hearers. I prayed for support and deliverance, and was heard. For just as they approached us with looks full of resentment, I know not by what accident, they, quarrelled among themselves,- threw down their staff, and went their way, leaving, how ever, many of their company behind, who, before we had done, I trust were brought over to join the besieged party. I think I continued in praying, preaching, and singing, (for the noise was too great at times to preach) about three hours. 436 WHITEFIELD. hours. We then retired to the tabernacle, where thousands flocked. We were determined to pray down the booths ; but, blessed be God, more substantial work was done- At a moderate computation, I received (I believe) a thou sand notes from persons under conviction ; and soon after, upwards of three hundred were received into the society in one day. Some I married, that had lived together without marriage. One man had exchanged his wife for another, and given fourteen shillings in exchange. Numbers, that seemed, as it were, to have been bred up for Tyburn, were at that time plucked as firebrands out of the burning." Soon after these transactions, he embarked a second time for Scotland, and arrived atLeith, on the 3d of June 17.42. Here he had much to do with the bigotry and nar rowness of some particular people, and especially with the seceders, into the particulars of which Dr. Gillies has en tered with fulness and candour, but which we have not space nor inclination to recite. Upon his second arrival in Scot land, June 1742, he was received by great numbers, among" whom were sbme persons of distinction, with much joy: And had the satisfaction of seeing and hearing more and more of the happy fruits of his ministry. At Edinburgh? he preached twice a-day, as usual in the Hospital Park, where a number of seats and shades, in the form of an amphitheatre, were erected for the accommodation of his hearers. And in consequence of earnest invitations, he wenttothewesteountry, particularly to Cambuslang, where he preached no less than three times upon the very day of his arrival, to a vast body of people, although he had preached that same morning at Glasgow. The last of these exercises he began at nine at night, continuing till eleven, when he said he observed such a commotioh among the people, as he had never seen in America. Mr.. M'Culloch preached after him, till past one in the morning, and even then could hardly persuade the people to depart. All night in the fields might be heard the voice of prayer and praise. As Mr. Whitefield was frequently at Cambuslang during this season, a description of what he observed there at differ ent times, will be best given in his own words : " Persons- from all parts flocked to see, and many, from many parts, went home convinced, and converted unto God. A brae, •>r hill, near the manse at Cambuslang, seemed to be formed. by providence, for containing a large congregation. People sat unwearied till two in the morning, to hear sermons, disregarding the weather. You could scarce walk a yard, •hit you must tread upon some, either rejoicing, in God for WHITEFIELD. 437 for mercies received, or crying out for more. Thousands and thousands have I seen, before it was possible to catch it by sympathy, melted down under the word and power of God. At the celebration of the holy communion, their joy was so great, that at the desire of many, both ministers and people, in imitation of Hezekiah's passover, they had, a month or two afterwards, a seeond; which was a general rendezvous of the people of God. The communion-table was in the field; three tents, at proper distances, all sur rounded with a multitude of hearers ; above twenty mi nisters (among whom was good old Mr. Bonner) attending to preach and assist, all enlivening and enlivened by one another." , Besides his labours at Glasgow and Cambuslang, it is somewhat surprising to think how many other places in the west of Scotland he visited within the compass of a few weeks, preaching once or twice at every one of them, and at several three or four times. It is worth while to set down the journal of a week or two. In the beginning of July, he preached twice on Monday at Paisley; on the Tuesday and Wednesday, three times each day at Irvine; on Thursday, twice at Mearns; on Friday, three times at Cumbernaud ; and on Saturday, twice at Falkirk. And again in the latter end of August, on Thursday, he preached twice at Greenock; on Friday, three times at Kilbride ; on Saturday, once at Kilbride, and twice at Stevenson ; on Sabbath, four times at Irvine; on Monday, once at Irvine, and three times at Kil marnock ; on Tuesday, once at Kilmarnock, and four times atStewarton ; on Wednesday, once at Stewarton, and twice at the Mearns. He was also at Inchanan, New Kilpatrick, Calder, and Kilsyth, (where the religious concern still in creased) andatTorphichen. He was indeed sometimes taken very ill, and his friends thought he was going off: " But in the pulpit (says he) the Lord, out of weakness, makes me to wax strong, and causes me to triumph more and more." And even when he retired for a day or two, it was on purpose to write letters, and to prepare pieces for the press, so that he was as busy as ever. When he was at Edinburgh, he received accounts that the Spaniards had landed in Georgia. Upon this oc-r casion he wrote to Mr. Habersham : " I am glad my dear family is removed to Mr. Bryan's, and rejoice that our glorious God had raised him and his brother up, to be sueh friends in time of need. My thoughts have been variously exercised, but my heart kept stedfast and joyful in the Lord of all lords, whose mercy endureth for 438 WHITEFIELD. for ever. I long to be with you, and methinks could wiU lingly be found at the head of you kneeling and praying, though a Spaniard's sword should be put to my throat. But, alas ! I know not how I should behave, if put to the trial : Only we have a promise, that as our day is, so our strength shall be. The thoughts of divine lovccarry me above every thing. My dear friend, the Spaniards cannot rob us of this ; nor can men or devils. I humbly hope that I shall shortly hear of the spiritual and temporal wel fare of you all." And he was not disappointed ; for a few weeks after, he was informed of his family's safe return to Bethesda. About the end of October he left Scotland, and rode post to London, where he arrived in about five days. From October 1742 to August 1744, Mr. Whitefield con tinued in England, but was employed in travelling up and down to preach the kingdom of God, and with the same success and the same opposition as before. After a variety of these circumstances, he resolved to make another visit to America, whither Mr. Smith, a merchant, then in Eng land, in the name of thousands invited him. With him he took passage in a ship going from Portsmouth ; but being informed, just before he was about to take his farewell, that the captain refused to take him, for fear, as he alleged, of spoiling the sailors, he was obliged to go as far as Plymouth. ?' In my way, says he, I preached at Wellington, where one Mr. Darracott had been a blessed instrument of doing much good. At Exeter also, I revisited, where many souls were awakened to the divine life. At Biddeford, where good Mr. Hervey had been curate, we had much of the power of God ; and also at Kingsbridge. But the chief Scene was at Plymouth and the dock, where I expected least success." It is remarkable, that just before his success at Plymouth, he was in danger of being killed. Four gentle men, it seems, came to the house of one of his particular friends, kindly inquiring after him,- and desiring to know where he lodged. Soon afterwards, Mr. Whitefield re ceived a letter1, informing him, that the writer was a ne phew of Mr. S , an attorney at New York ; that he had the pleasure of supping with Mr. Whitefield at his uncle's house; and desired his company to sup with him and a few more friends, at a tavern. Mr. Whitefield sent him word, that it was not customary for him to sup abroad at taverns, but should be glad of the gentleman's company to eat a- morsel with him at his lodging; he accordingly came and supped ; but was observed frequently to look around him, and to be very absent. At last he took his leave, and re turned WHITEFIELD. 439 turned to his companions in the tavern; and being by them interrogated what he had doner he answered, ' That he had been used so civilly, he had not the heart to touch him.' Upon which, it seems, another of the company, a lieute nant of a man of war, laid a wager of ten guineas, that he would do his business for him. His companions, how ever, had the precaution to take away his sword. It was now about midnight, and Mr. Whitefield having that day , preached to a large congregation, and visited the French prisoners, was gone to bed : When the landlady came and told him that a well-dressed gentleman desired to speak with him, Mr. Whitefield, imagining it was somebody under con7 viction, desired him to be brought up. He came, and sat down by the bed-side, congratulated him upon the success of his ministry, and expressed much concern at being de tained from hearing him. Soon after he broke out into the most abusive language, and in a cruel and cowardly man ner, beat him in his bed. The landlady and her daughter hearing the noise, rushed into the room, and seized upon him ; but he soon disengaged himself from them, and re peated his blows on Mr. Whitefield, who, being apprehen sive that he intended to shoot or stab him, underwent all the surprise of a sudden and violent death. Afterwards, a second came into the house, and cried out from the bot tom of the stairs, ' Take courage, I am ready to help you.' But by the repeated cry of murder, the alarm was now so great, that they both made off. ' The next morn ing, says Mr. Whitefield, I was to expound at a private house, and then to set out for Biddeford. Some urged me to stay and prosecute ; but being better employed, I went on my intended journey, was greatly blessed in preaching the everlasting gospel, and upon my return was well paid for what I had suffered: Curiosity having led perhaps two thousand more than ordinary, to see and hear a man that had like to have been murdered in his bed. And I trust in the five weeks' time, while I waited for the. convoy, hundreds were awakened, and turned unto the Lord. At the dock also, near Plymouth, a glorious work was begun. Could the fields between Plymouth and the dock speak, they could tell what blessed seasons were enjoyed there.' Mr. Whitefield embarked again for America in the begin ning of August 1744, though in but indifferent health. He had a tedious passage of eleven weeks, which increased his disorder. When he arrived in New England, Col. Pepperell and others received him gladly. But his indisposition pre vented his reaching Boston for three weeksr where he re-t sumed 440 WHITEFIELD. sumed his labours, and set up a lecture, which he preached at six in the morning. " I seldom preached (says he) to less than two thousand. It was delightful to see so many of both sexes, neatly dressed, flocking to hear the word, and returning home to family-prayer and breakfast, before the opposers were out of their beds. So that it was com monly said, that, between early rising and tar-water, the physicians would have no business." In short, he began to think of remaining in America ; but the unfavourable climate so injured his constitution, and the debts of the Orphan House were so heavy, that it was necessary for him to make a voyage elsewhere for the recovery of his health, and to think of English liberality for the support of this establishment in America, Accordingly, upon advice, he embarked for the Bermudas, where he arrived on the 15th of March 1748. At these islands he met with a very kind reception from all sorts of people, and preached usually twice a-day for above a month, in various parts of this little colony, which js placed by itself in almost the middle of the Atlantic ocean. These have been already celebrated by Waller the poet, and the late Bishop Berkeley, who resided here for some time. Here Mr. Whitefield obtained a collection for the Orphan House, which he transmitted to Georgia ; but dreading to go back to America in that season of heat, and having pressing calls to England, he took the opportunity of a brig, and in twenty days arrived at Deal, and on the next evening, July 6, 1748, he reached London, after an absence of near four years. On Mr. Whitefield's visiting a few of his friends, im mediately after his return, he found himself in no very agreeable situation. His congregation at the Tabernacle was sadly scattered. And as to his outward circumstances, he had sold all his household furniture, to help to pay the Orphan House debt, which yet was far from being can celled. But under all these discouragements, he was still supported. His congregation was soon re-united, and re ceived him with the greatest joy. And at this time a very unexpected thing happened to him. Lady Huntingdon, before hjs arrival, had ordered Mr. Howel Harris to bring him to her house at Chelsea, as soon as he came on shore. He went, and having preached twice, the Countess wrote to him, that several of the nobility desired to hear him. In a few days the Earl of Chesterfield and a whole circle of them attended: and having heard once, desired they might hear him again. " I therefore preached again (says he) in the WHITEFIELD. UI the evening, and went home, never more surprised at any incident in my life. All behaved quite well, and were in some degree affected. The Earl of Chesterfield thanked me, and said, < Sir, I will not tell you what I shall tell others, how I approve of you ;' or words to this purpose. At last Lord Boiingbroke came to hear, sat like an arch bishop, and was pleased to say, ' I had done great justice to the divine attributes in my discourse.' Soon afterwards her ladyship removed to town, where I preached general ly twice a-week to very brilliant auditories. Blessed be God, not without effectual success on some." In September 1748 he made a third visit to Scotland, where he met with a hearty welcome. Great multitudes flocked to hear him both at Edinburgh and Glasgow. " I have reason (says he) to believe some have been awakened, and many quickened and comforted. My old friends are more solidly so than ever, and a foundation, I trust, has been laid for doing much good, if ever the Lord should call me thither again. Two synods,* and one presbytery, brought * He means the synods of Glasgow and Perth, and the presbytery of Edinburgh. What happened in the synod of Glasgow may be seen in a pamphlet, entitled, " A fair and impartial Account of the De bate in the synod of Glasgow and Ayr, 6 October 1748, anent employing Mr. Whitefield." Published at Edinburgh the same year, and supposed to be written by the Reverend Dr. Erskine, who was then minister at Kirkintilloch. The short history of the matter is this : A motion was made, tending to prohibit or discourage ministers from employing Mr. Whitefield. The speeches made in support of the motion were upon the following topics : His being a priest of the church of Eng land. That he had not subscribed the Formula. His imprudencies. Chimerical scheme of the Orphan-house. Want of evidence that the money he collects is rightly applied. Asserting that assurance is essential to faith. Encouraging a dependence on impulses and imme diate revelations. Declaring on slender evidence, some people con verted, and others carnal and unregenerated. Often, indeed, pre tending to repent of his blunders, and retract; but as often relapsing into them. And lastly, his being under a sentence of suspension by- Commissary Garden, from which he had appealed to the High Court of Chancery, and made oath to prosecute that appeal in a twelve month ; anil yet it was never prosecuted. On the other hand, the ministers who were against the motion, spoke in this manner: I blush to think, said one, that any of our brethren should befriend a proposal So contrary to that moderation aud catholic spirit which now is, and I hope ever shall be, the glory of our chursh. I am Sen sible, many things in the church of England need reformation; but V honour her, notwithstanding, as our sister church. If Bishop Butler, Bishop Sherlock, or Bishop Seeker were in Scotland, I should welcome them to my pulpit. In this I should imitate Mr. Samuel Rutherford, as firm a presbyterian as any of us, who yet employed Bishop Usher. There is no law of Christ, no act of assembly prohibiting me to give my 442 WHITEFIELD. brought me upon the carpet ; but all has worked for good.v While he was in Scotland he endeavoured to do all the service he could to the New Jersey college, and, in con junction with some ministers who wished well to that in stitution, advised the sending over a minister from Ame rica to make application in person : Which was after wards done in the year 1754, when Mr. Tennent and Mr. Davies applied to the General Assembly, and obtained an appointment my pulpit to an Episcopal, Independent, or Anabaptist minister, if of sound principles in the fundamentals of religion, and of a sober life. Our church expressly enjoins, Act XIII. April 1711, that great tenderness is to be used to foreign protestants. The requiring stran gers to subscribe our Formula, before they preach with us, would lay as effectual a bar against employing those of congregational prin ciples, or presbyterian non-subscribers, as those of the church of England. As to Mr. Whitefield, said another, there are few ministers whose character hath been so well attested by the most competent judges, both at home and abroad. One thing 1 cannot but observe: Those who have spoken most warmly against Mr. Whitefield in this debate, acknowledge they have made little or no inquiry into his character: Whereas those on the other side have made a very careful inquiry; and that inquiry has turned out entirely to their satisfaction. With regard to his imprudencies, there is a great difference betwixt blunders owing to a bad heart, and those that are owing only to a misinformed judgment: Especially, when the mistakes that occa sioned them have misled several great and good men. Whether Mr. Whitefield's scheme of the Orphan-hous'e be prudent or not, it is demonstrable it was honestly meant. The magistrates of Savannah published three years ago, in the Philadelphia Gazette, an affidavit that they had carefully examined Mr. Whitefield's receipts and dis bursements, and found that what he had collected in behalf of the orphans had been honestly applied; and that, besides, he had given considerably to them of his own property. As to his maintaining that assurance is essential to faith; encouraging an unwarrantable regard to impressions; and being too hasty in pronouncing men car nal or converted ; his sentiments in these particulars, have been altered for upwards of two years. And now he scarce preaches a sermon, without guarding his hearers against relying on impressions, and telling them that faith, and a persuasion we are justified, are very different things, and that a holy life is the best evidence of a gracious ttale. These retractions are owing to a real change of sentiment. Letters from correspondents in New England shew, that this change n, at least, of two years date, and that, ever since it happened, he has preached and acted with remarkable caution. Lastly, with re- s >ect to the prosecution of his appeal, Mr. Whitefield exerted himself to the utmost to get bis appeal heard, but could not prevail on the Lords Commissioners so much as once to meet on the affair; they, no doubt, thinking of Mr. Gardens's arbitrary proceedings with the contempt they deserved. But, say some, ' Mr. Whitefield being under a suspension not yet reversed, is now no minister.' But for what was he suspended ? Why, for no other crime than omitting \o use (he form of prayer prescribed in the communion book, when officiat ing in a presbyterian congregation. And shall a meeting of prqsbyte- riin rr^nisters pay any regard to a sentence which had such a foun dation p WHITEFIELD. appointment of a general collection. He also began to think of making his Orphan-house not only a receptacle for fatherless children, but also a place of literature and academical studies. Mean time, he went on in his usual way, and with his usual success, at London, Bristol, and Gloucester, during the winter; and in February 1749, made an excursion to Exeter and Plymouth, where he found a strange alteration in the people since he had been first there, about five years before; they now received him with the greatest joy, and were importunate to hear him; and many of them gave proofs of a solid conversion to God. In March 1749, he returned to London from an excursion of about six hundred miles in the west, where he had the pleasure of seeing that his former visits had been blessed with abundant success. In May he went to Portsmouth, and preached every day for more than a week, to very large and attentive auditories. Many were brought under convictions, prejudices seemed to be universally re moved, and people, that a few days before were speaking all manner of evil against him, were very desirous of his longer stay to preach the gospel among them. In the month of September he went into Northamptonshire and York shire, and preached at Oundle, Abberford, Leeds, and Haworth, where good Mr. Grimshaw (who was so inde fatigable in his endeavours to bring souls to Christ) was minister. In his church they had above a thousand com municants, and in the church-yard about six thousand hearers. In April 1758 he was at London and Ports mouth : And in May went to Ashby to wait on Lady Huntingdon, who had been ill. In his way thither he had a most comfortable interview with the Reverend Dr. Doddridge, Mr. Hervey, &c* Thus dation ? The issue of the debate was * rejecting of the motiun by a vote, 27 to 13; and a resolution which was so exprcst as to be a decent burial of it; laying no new restriction on ministers from inviting stran gers, but leaving filings precisely as they were before. And they, who chose to give Mr. Whitefield their pulpits, never after met with any mo lestation. Upon the whole, the attacks made on Mr. Whitefield's cha racter proved the occasion of informing the synod of the falsehood of < many aspersions thrown out against him, of the great increase of his pru dence and caution, and the remarkable change of his sentiments and be haviour, so far as either were offensive. And thus, what was intended for his reproach turned out to his honour. * Mr. Hervey thus wrote of this interview to a friend: ' I have seen lately that most excellent minister of the ever-blessed Jesus, Mr. Whitefield. I dined, supped, and spent the evening with him at Northampton, in company with Dr. Doddridge, and two pious, inger nious 444 WHITEFIELD. Thus he employed himself incessantly, and visited, in this way, most parts of the kingdom, with a zeal and in- defatigability that are almost incredible. In May 1751 he went over to Ireland, where he conti nued his labours to the beginning of July following, when he passed from Belfast to Irvine, and from thence to Glasgow. He traversed part of Scotland, and cam© to Edinburgh ; and from thence on the 6th of August he set out for London, in order to embark a fourth time for Ame rica. On the 27th of October he arrived in Georgia, and found affairs to his satisfaction. Here and in South Ca rolina he spent the winter, and about the end pf April 1752 he sailed for London. In England he resumed his work of preaching and travelling, and in short, visited in this way most part of the island. On the 7th of March 1754 he sailed again for America with above twenty orphans, but put in at Lisbon, where he was highly disgusted with some instances of popish su perstition. He again traversed America, making (as he. used to call it) his preaching campaigns. He continued upon the continent till the end of March 1753, and then embarked for England, where he arrived about the begin ning of May. He then went his usual circuits till the approach of win ter, where he returned to London, and preached in Long- acre chapel for the first time on December 23, 1755, but met with all sorts of opposition and difficulties. This induced him to propose the building a new chapel in Tottenham-r Court Road, which he began on the 10th of May 1756; and, after his country excursions, returned to open it on the seventh nious clergymen of the church of England, both of them known to the learned world by their valuable writings. And surely, I never spent a more delightful evening, or saw one that seemed to make nearer approaches to the felicity of heaven. A gentleman of great v. orth and rank in the town, invited us to his house, and gave lis an elegant treat ; but how mean was bis provision, how coarse his deli cacies, compared with the fruit of my friend's lips; they dropped as the honey comb, and were a well of life. Surely, people do not know that amiable and exemplary man, or else, I cannot but think, instead of depreciating, they would applaud and love him. For my part, I never beheld so fair a copy of our Lord, such a living image of the Saviour, such exalted delight in Gon, such enlarged benevolence to man, such a steady faith in the dhine promises, and such a fervent zeal for the divine glory ; and all this without the least moroseness of humour, or extravagancies of behaviour; sweetened with the most engaging cheerfulness of temper, and regulated by all the sobriety of reason and wisdom of Scripture ; in so much, that I cannot forbear applying the wise man's encomium of an illustrious woman, to this eminent minister of the everlasting Gospel : Many sons have done uit.~ tuvusly, but thou ef cell&t them all\' WHITEFIELD. 4tt Seventh of November following, preaching from 1 Cor. iii. 11. Here he continued to labour during the winter, com* monly preaching abotit fifteen times in the week, though in a very disordered state of health. In spring 1757, he travelled northward, and into Scot land^ where he met with a very kind reception from many of the ministers, who were gathered in general assembly, and from the Lord Commissioner Lord Cathcart himself. From Scotland he again went into Ireland, where he had a narrow escape from the popish rabble of Dublin, after preaching a loyal as well as a gracious sermon. " But I left (says he) my persecutors to his mercy, who of perse». cutors has often made preachers. I pray God, I may thus be avenged of them." After traversing many parts of Ireland, he came again into England, preaching as he journeyed, and arrived at London in October 1757. Here he continued his work in very ill health: " I am brought now (says he iii a letter) to the short allowance of preach ing but once a-day, and thrice on a Sunday.1' Ih the year 1758, he visited Wales and Scotland, and returned to London about the end of October, where he continued the succeeding winter ; and in the middle of May 1759, be again opened his spring campaign (as he termed it) at Bristol. From thence he passed again to Scotland in July. His visit to Scotland this year gave occasion to a passage Which was much for his honour, and a full confu tation of the mercenary motives ascribed to him by some of his adversaries. One Miss Hunter, a young lady of con siderable fortune, made a full offer to him of her estate, both money and lands, amounting to about seven thousand pounds, which he generously refused. And upon his re fusing it for himself, she offered it to him for the benefit of his Orphan House in Georgia, which he also absolutely re fused. These facts the compiler [says Dr. Gillies, mean ing himself] has from undoubted authority. He spent the winter in London, and got his chapel enlarged. March 14, 1760, he made a collection at his chapel and tabernacle, of above four hundred pounds, for the distressed Prussians, who had suffered so much from the cruelty of the Russians, at Newmark, Costrin, &c. In summer 1760, he went in to Gloucestershire and Wales, and from thence to Bristol. When he preached at the tabernacle in Bristol, there were more in the evenings than it could well hold ; and in the fields his "congregations consisted of not less than ten thou sand. In March 1760, he made collections in London of above four hundred pounds for the distressed protestants. in. 446 WHITEFIELD. in Prussia; and in February 1761, of five hundred and sixty-four pounds for the German protestants, and for sufferers by fire at Boston in New England. During great part of this and the former year he labour ed under great weakness and infirmity of body. He took a short voyage to Holland in 1762; and the sea air great ly braced and strengthened him, insomuch that he was able to preach again with his usual alacrity. In 1763 he travelled. northwards and to Scotland, and at length from Greenock sailed again to Virginia, where he arrived in August. From hence he went up and down in America, preaching as often as his strength could bear, and arrived at Boston in February 1764. From thence he went slow ly, as the year declined, through the continent to Geor gia, where he employed himself about his favourite Or phan House and college, till February 1765, when he tra velled northward, and at length sailed from New York to England, where he arrived in July. In October, he opened Lady Huntingdon's new chapel at Bath. From this time to the beginning of September 1769, he was employed, as often as health permitted, in his usual labours ; and then for the seventh and last time embarked for America. Here he spent his last efforts for the promul gation of the gospel, and at length departed this life, in as fit of the asthma, at Newbury Port, in New England, on the 30th of September 1770, where his remains were depo sited. He was not fully fifty-six at the time of his death, but thirty-four years, however, of that time he had spent in the ministry. As to his person, he was graceful and well-proportioned : His stature above the middle size. His complexion was very fair. His eyes were of a dark blue colour, and small, but sprightly. He had a squint with one of them, occasioned either by the ignorance or the carelessness of the nurse who attended him in the measles, when he was about four years old. His features were in general good and regular. His countenance was manly, and his voice exceeding strong ; yet both were softened with an uncommon degree of sweetness. He was always- very clean and neat, and often said pleasantly, " That a minister of the gospel ought to be without spot." His deportment was decent and easy, without the least stiff ness or formality: And his engaging polite manner made his company universally agreeable. In his youth he was very slender, and moved his body with great agility to action, suitable to his discourse : But, about the fortieth year of his age, he began to grow corpulent, which how ever WHITEFIELD. 447 ever was solely the effect of his disease, being always, even to a proverb, remarkable for his moderation both in eat ing and drinking. His eloquence was very great, and of the truest and no blest kind. He was utterly devoid of all appearance of af fectation. He seemed to be quite unconscious of the talents he possessed. The importance of his subject, and the re gard due to his hearers, engrossed all his concern. He spake like one who did not seek their applause, but was concerned* for their best interests, and who, from a princi ple of unfeigned love, earnestly endeavoured to lead them in the right way. And the effect in some measure corre sponded to the design. They did not amuse themselves with commending his discourses; but being moved and persuaded by what he said, entered into his views, felt his passions, and were willing, for that time at least, to com ply with all his requests. This was especially remarkable at his charity sermons, when the most worldly minded were made to part with their money in so generous a manner, that when they returned to their former temper, they were ready to think that it had been conjured from them by some inexplicable charm. The charm, however, was no* thing else than the power of his natural eloquence, in which respect it is not easy to say, whether he could be much excelled either in ancient or modern times. He had a strong and musical voice, and a wonderful command of it. His pronunciation was not only pro per, but manly and graceful. Nor was he ever at a loss for the most natural and strong expressions. Yet these in him were but lower qualities. The grand sources of his eloquence were an exceeding lively imagination, which made people think they saw what he described, an action still more lively if possible, by which, while every accent of his voice spoke to the ear, every feature of his face, every motion of his hands, and every gesture spoke to the ey e ; so that the most dissipated and thoughtless found their attention involuntarily fixed, and the dullest and most ig norant could not but understand. He had likewise a cer tain elevation of mind, which raised him equally above praise and censure, and added great authority to whatever he said.* But what was perhaps the most important of all, * The natural language of this Christian fortitude we have in his Let ter eclxxxiii. '.' The Lord only knows how he will be pleased to dispose of me; great afflictions I am sure of having; and a sudden death, bless ed be God, will not be terrible. I know that my Redeemer liveth. I every day long to see him, that I may be free from the remainder of sin, and enjoy hiin, without interruption, for ever,'' 448 GIL L. all, he had a heart deeply exercised in all the social as well as the pious and religious affections,, and was at the same time most remarkably communicative, by which means he was peculiarly fitted to awaken like feelings in others, and to sympathize with every one that had them. Great was the lamentation in the religious world upon his death, and' numerous were the sermons preached upon that occasion. But for a full and pathetic account of these, we must refer our readers to the large account of his life, published by the Rev. Dr. Gillies. His Sermons, Tracts, and Letters, written at intervals, from the year 1734 to 1770, constitute his written Works: And these have been published in six volumes, 8vo. since his death. JOHN GILL, D.D. X HIS learned and laborious divine was born at Ketter ing in Northamptonshire, November 23, O. S. 1697. His parents were Edward Gill and Elizabeth his wife, whose maiden name was Walker. They were religious and pious persons, whose circumstances did not reach affluence, but were above contempt. His father was a deacon of the Bap tist meeting at Kettering, and was eminent for his grace, piety, and holy conversation. He first became a member of a congregation in the same place, consisting of Presby^ terians, Independents, and Baptists : In which congre-' gation, besides the pastor of it, there was a teaching elder of the Baptist denomination, Mr. William Wallis, who was the administrator of baptism by immersion, to such adult persons as desired it. For some time this mixed con gregation continued in peace and harmony: but, at length they disagreed and separated. Mr. Wallis became pastor to those of the Baptist persuasion ; and this was the rise and foundation of the Baptist congregation at .Kettering. About the time of these troubles, Mr. Edward Gill, who was one of those that had separated, entered into the mar riage state: And as those dissensions pressed him much, and he was often revolving within himself the condition and circumstances of this little meeting lately set up, which had but a small beginning, and what must be the conse quence of things, he had strong impressions upon his mind, that the child his wife now became pregnant with, would be GILL. 449 be a son, and prove of eminent distinction in the Baptist profession. He was even strongly persuaded, that this child would be a minister of the word : And he always re tained a firm belief of it, when things seemed to be un promising. He had other impulses relative to his son, and to other persons and things ; which had their exact ac complishment: And this must be acknowledged by all who knew him, that he was not a man of a fanciful and melan choly disposition, not given to enthusiasm. We take this, however, and the following passages from the author of the ' Summary of his life, &c.' and leave them to the judgment of our readers. The morning this first-born son of his was brought into the world, one Chambers, a woodman, came to his house with a load of faggots for fuel : And, as he was unloading his faggots, Mr. Gill came out of his house to him, and, with a great deal of joy, told him, that he had a son born to him tiiat morning. At that very moment, as the wood man affirmed, a stranger passed by whom he never saw be fore, nor since, who added, ' Yes, and he will be a scholar too, and all the world cannot hinder it.' This the wood man, who was reckoned a man of sobriety, honesty, and veracity, constantly and confidently affirmed at different times, without variation : And even, years after, when inquired of concerning it ; nor could he have any sinister end in contriving such a story, and persisting in it. How ever, Mr. Gill's son, as soon as he was capable of instruc tion, discovered a very great aptitude for learning, and im bibed it as fast as it could be given : So that he was quickly out of the reach, and in no need of a common teacher of children* He was therefore sent to the grammar school, very early; which he attended with uncommon eagerness and diligence: Insomuch that he soon not only transcended his coevals, but distanced even greatly his seniors. Here he continued till he was about eleven years of age ; during which time, notwithstanding the tedious manner in which his grammatical knowledge was conveyed, he, besides go ing through the common school-books, read several of the chief Latin classics, and made a considerable proficiency in the Greek : So that he began to be talked of as a youth of learning ; and was known by several of the neighbour ing clergy, by whom he was sometimes examined at a bookseller's shop (which he constantly frequented on mar ket-days, when only it was opened) ; to which he so regu larly repaired., for the sake of consulting different authors, that it became an usual asseveration with the common VOL, IV. 2 G people 450 GILL. people in the town, ' such a thing is as sure as John Gill is in the bookseller's shop.' He left the grammar school rather early in life. The occasion was this: The schoolmaster insisted, that the children of dissenting parents, as well as others, should go with him to church, on week-days, at the hours of prayer : Upon which the children of dissenters were taken awayfrom the school, and he among the rest. Those dissenters, who were in affluent circumstances, sent their children to dis tant parts for their further education: But this was not the case with his parents. This was a very discouraging cir cumstance. Several ways and means were thought of by his friends ; but all proved fruitless. Some efforts were made by ministers, both of other denominations and of his own, to get him upon one or other of the funds in Lon don, and that he might be sent to one'of their seminaries of learning. To this end accounts of his progress in lite rature were sent up to town: But the answer returned by way of objection was, that he was too young ; and, should he continue, as it might be supposed he would, to make such rapid advances in his studiesj he would go through the Common circle of learning before he could be capable of taking care of himself, or of being employed in any public service. If any credit can be given to the story of the woodman, concerning what the stranger said on the morn ing of his birth, which seemed to suppose that some diffi culties and obstructions would be thrown in the way of his becoming a scholar, they now began to appear. And yet, notwithstanding all this, such was his desire of learning, that he not only retained what knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages he had acquired, but he improved himself in both, by constantly reading all such books in those lan guages, as he could obtain. In process of time he studied Logic, Rhetoric, Moral and Natural Philosophy. He likewise, suo Marte, learned the Hebrew language, with out any living assistance, by the help of Buxtorf s" Gram mar and Lexicon. With only these, he surmounted the Chief difficulties Of that language: And cotild soon read the Hebrew Bible with great ease and pleasure. In this lan-J guage he always took peculiar delight. He read books, in various branches of literature, in the Latin tongue, to im-i prove his mind with whatsoever was useful : And particu larly systems of divinity. For some few years his time was daily divided : Part of it was employed in his father's busi ness, and the other part of it in close studying. And thus he went on, till he hadnearly attained to the nineteenth year of GILL. 451 of his age. It is now time to look back, and take some notice of the religious turn of his mind, and of his inquiries after divine and spiritual things. He had slight convictions of sin, and occasional thoughts of a future state, from his childhood. Sometimes he was terrified with the fear of death, hell, and eternity ; and strangely elated with think ing on the joys of heaven, the glories of another world, and the happiness of saints made perfect above. But these impressions were, for sOme time, both superficial and transi tory. When he was about twelve years of age, the work ings of his mind became more serious, settled and effec tual : And especially after hearing a sermon of Mr. Wil liam Wallis's, on Gen. iii. 9. And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, where art thou ? . For a while it was, as it were, continually ringing in his ears, ' Man, where art thou ? What a wretched state and condition art thou in ? How miserable wilt thou be, living and dying, in an Unconverted state !' Hence he used lo call Mr. Wallis, if any man, his spiritual father, who died soon after. And now he began clearly to see the depravity of his nature ; the exceeding sinfulness of sin; his need of Christ, and sal vation by him; and of a better righteousness than his own; even the righteousness of Christ, to be received by faith : And in a short time he was favoured with a comfortable hope and faith of interest ih Him, from several exceeding great and precious promises, powerfully applied to his soul. It was, moreover, his happy lot,, to have his mind early irradiated with the light and knowledge of evangelic truths, by means Of the ministry of several gospel-preachers in those parts of the country, whom at times he had the op portunity of hearing : And these truths, coming to him with power, failed not of freeing him from the bondage of the law, and of filling him with joy and peace in believ ing ; yet though he early arrived to satisfaction in his mind about his eternal state, he did not make a public pro fession of religion until he was almost nineteen years of age ; partly by reason of his youth for some time, and the solemnity of a profession ; and chiefly in the latter part of this period ef his life, because he perceived the eye of the people was upon him to call him forth to the ministry, as soon as they conveniently could ; their then present pas tor being greatly involved in worldly business, and one who much needed assistance. November 1, 1716, he made a public profession of his faith in Christ, by declaring to the congregation with which he stood connected, the dealings of God with his soul, to 452 GIL L. to their satisfaction : And was the same day baptized (ac cording to the mode and principles in Which he had been educated) by their pastor, Mr. Thomas Wallis, who suc ceeded his father Mr. William Wallis in that office. The Lord's day following, November 4th, he was re ceived a member into the congregation, and partook with them of the Lord's Supper : 1 n the evening of that day, at , a meeting of prayer in a private house, he read the fifty- third chapter of Isaiah, as suitable to the service of the day, and expounded some passages of it : And, at the close of the meeting, some of them addressed him to this pur pose, ' Friend, we take this as a beginning of the exercise of your ministerial gift, which we are persuaded the Lord has bestowed upon you.' And accordingly, the next Lord's day, in the evening, at the same place, he deli vered a sermon on 1 Cor. ii. 2, For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him cru cified. For a few days he continued preaching in this pri vate manner : But the congregation soon called him to exercise his ministerial gift in public, and sent him forth as a minister of the word. Quickly after this, at the motion of some of his friends- at London, who had seen and conversed with him in the country, he removed to Higham-Ferrers, about six or seven computed miles from Kettering, His view, and what inclined him to attend to this motion, was to carry on his studies under Mr. John Davis, with whom he was to board; a gentleman of learning, and who now taught in that place some branches of literature ; being lately come from Wales, and settled pastor of a new Baptist con gregation lately formed at Higham. In this view, however, young Mr. Gill was disappointed ; but the design of Mr. Gill's friends in London in this removal of him, was, chiefly to be assisting in this new meeting,, and to the young people in it, and to preach occasionally in the ad jacent villages. Here he continued the year following : And in this time, and at. that place; he contracted ac quaintance with a young gentlewoman of great piety and good sense, whose name was Elizabeth Neg«s,a member of the new gathered society, and whom he married in 1718. The doctor was always of opinion, that his mar riage with this excellent person was the principal thing for which God in his providence sent him to that place : And he ever considered his marriage to her, as one of the capital blessings of his life. For she proved affectionate, discreet, and careful : And, by her unremitting prudence, took GILL. 453 took off from his hands-all domestic avocations, so that he could, with more leisure, and greater ease of mind, pursue his studies, and devote himself to his ministerial service. This wife of hisyouth lived with him unto the year 1764,* and by her he had many children, all of whom died in their infancy, except three : One of which, whose name was Elizabeth, (a most lovely and desirable child for person, sense, and grace) died May 30, 1738, when she had en tered into the thirteenth year of her age. Her funeral ser mon was preached by her father from 1 Thess. iv, 13, 14. and was printed, with an account of some of her choice experiences. Mr. Gill, during his abode at Higham-Fer- rers, very frequently preached at Kettering ; which, as before observed, is but six or seven miles distant. The circumstances of the pastor there requiring assistance, Mr. Gill, quickly after his marriage, wholly removed thither : Where his ministry, from the beginning, had been blessed, not only to the comfort, but to the conversion of many. But his continuance here was not long ; for, in the begin ning of the year 1719, the Baptist congregation at Horsly- down, Southwark, being deprived of their pastor by the death of Mr. Benjamin Stinton, some of the members, hearing of Mr. Gill, desired a friend of his to write to him, and invite him to give them a visit, and preach to them ; which he did in the months of April and May, the same year ; and then returned into the country. About two months after, the meeting at Horsly-down wrote to him, requesting his return to them in the month of August ; which he complied with, and continued preaching to them, till about Michaelmas; when they made choice of him to be their pastor, and called him, young as he was, to the exercise of that office ; which, after taking some time for consideration, he accepted of. And now he met with much trouble and great opposition from many ; partly on account of his youth (he not being quite twenty-two years of #ge), and chiefly because of his evangelical way of preaching. But God was with him, and blessed his mi nistry to the conversion of many souls ; so that large addU tions were made to the society, year after year, for a considerable time. In 1723, when he was between twen ty-five and twenty-six years of age, it was the will of God to visit him with an hectic fever, and other disor ders * She died October 10, 1764, aged sixty.seven years and five months, having been married to the Doctor forty-six years, three calendar months;, iind nineteen days. 454 GILL. ders of body ; which greatly wasted and consumed him, and threatened his life : But it pleased God to bless the means made use of, and to restore him to health again. It pleased Gon (as the reader must have observed from the account already given) to endue him with strong, mental powers, and with an eager and intense desire after improvement in knowledge. As he grew up in life, he pursued his studies with indefatigable diligence, and the closest application : By which means, under the blessing of God, he attained to a very superior degree of solid and tiseful 'learning, and acquired an established character for it, amongst the learned of all denominations. His natural and acquired abilities were very considerable. He had a single hint, in all our coriversafioiis, directly or 'indirectly, con cerning the article of baptism.' 460 GILL. A third edition of the Exposition was published in 1767, with many additions. In the year 1728, he published a Treatise concerning the prophecies of the Old Testament respecting the Messiah. The occasion of which, was this: In 1724,a book was pub lished, called, ' A Discourse of the Grounds of the Chris tian Religion, &c.' well known to be written by Anthony Collins, Esq. a deistical writer. Many answers were writ ten to one part or other of this book : To which the au thor replied, in another book, called, ' The Scheme of literal Prophecy considered, &c.' published in 1727, which was chiefly pointed at Dr. Edward Chandler, Bishop of Durham, who had written against the former : It was to this latter book, chiefly, Mr. Gill made answer, and to which he was led by the following incident. A certain gen tleman asserted in conversation, that*no Calvinist could write in this controversy to any advantage. WThat his rea son was for so saying, orwhether any was assigned by him, is not remembered. Some of Mr. Gill's friends being pre sent, thought of him ; and took an opportunity of mov ing it to him, and importuned him to engage in this con troversy. Upon which he preached a set of sermons on the prophecies relating to the Messiah, in a regular order, suited to the history of the life of Jesus; and then made ex tracts out of them» which he published under the title of " The Prophecies of the Old Testament, respecting the Messiah, considered, and proved to be literally fulfilled in Jesus;" in answer to the above book. This work of his met with the approbation of some men of learning and judgment, and even of the very person above-mentioned, whose assertion was the occasion of it. A list and catalogue of the various pieces published during this controversy, was collected by that most indefatigable inquirer after books, the learned Fabricius, of Hamburgh, in his Salu- taris Lux EvangeKi, &c. c. 9. p. 173, Sec. Hamburgh, 1731. The ministry of Mr. Gill being acceptable not only to his own people, but likewise to many of other denomi nations ; some gentlemen moved among themselves to set up a lecture on some day in the week, that they might have the opportunity of hearing him. Accordingly se veral met together, and forming themselves into a socie ty, agreed to have a lecture on Wednesday evenings, and set on foot a subscription to support it. Upon their in vitation, Mr. Gill undertook that lectureship, and con tinued in it with great constancy, applause, and useful ness. It was set up in the year 1729, and he conti nued GILL. 461 nued preaching it (very rarely missing) until 1756, near twenty-seven years : When he gave it up, by reason of age and multiplicity of work upon his hands, and preach ed a farewell sermon to the society, on Acts xxvi. 22, 23. which was published that year. This lecture was pro ductive of many of his printed works, not onlv of single annual sermons on-various subjects, but of whole treatises: As on the Trinity, and Justification, the cause of God and Truth, and of several of his Commentaries on some of the books both of the Old and of the New Testament, of all which more hereafter. In 1730 a set of gentlemen, chiefly of the Independent denomination, thought fit to set up a temporary lecture for the winter and spring seasons following, and chose nine mu nisters to preach in it, on some of the most important doc trines of Christianity: Each having his subject allotted to him. The ministers were, Mr. Robert Bragge,,Mr. Tho mas Bradbury, Mr. John Hurrion, Mr. Thomas Hall, Mr. Peter Goodwin, Mr. John Sladen, Mr. Abraham Taylor, Mr. Samuel Wilson, and Mr. John Gill. These accepted of the invitation given them, and preached two sermons each, on the subject respectively assigned them: And when they had finished the course of them, the gentlemen desired the sermons might be printed ; which was accordingly done, in two volumes,. 8vo. in 1732. Mr. Gill's subject was the Resurrection of the Dead. His two sermons upon it have since been printed separately. In 1731 Mr. Gill published a " Treatise on the Doctrine of the Trinity," which was the substance of several discourses delivered on that subject at the Wednesday Evening Lecture, and published at the request of the society : The occasion of which was, the progress of Sabellianism among some of the Baptists. In particular, one Mr. Davis, a physician, and a Baptist mem ber, wrote a treatise called ' The great Concern of Jew and Gentile,' with some other little pamphlets, which had a tendency this way; and which, though very trifling things, having scarce any shew of argument in them* yet it seemed expedient they should be taken notice of in "the course of these Sermons on the Trinity. A society of young men, who kept up an exercise of prayer, on Lord's Day mornings, at Mr. Gill's meeting-house at Horsly- down, desired him to preach a sermon to them Decerns her 25, 1732, which he did, on the subject of Prayer: And, in the year following, on the same day of the month, he preached another, to the same, society, on singing of Psalms, from 1 Cor. xiv. 15. which were successively print* ed 462 GIL L. ed at their request. Both these sermons were afterwards reprinted together. In 1735, and in the three following years, Mr. Gill pub lished his Cause of God and Truth, in four volumes, Svo. In the first part of this work, those passages of Scripture are considered which the Arminians make use of in favour of their sentiments concerning Election and Reprobation, Original Sin, Redemption, Free-will, and the Perseverance of the Saints; and the true sense of such passages is given; and they are vindicated from the false glosses put upon them. In the second part, the passages of Scripture which are made use of by the Calvinists in support of their sense of the above doctrines, are explained, the true meaning of them defended, and the cavils of the Arminians answered. The contents of those two parts are extracts from sermons preached on those several texts, at the Wednesday Evening Lecture. The third part contains the arguments from rea son against these doctrines. And the fourth part gives the sense of the ancient fathers, before Austin, concerning those -points. In 1736 was published, by an anonymous writer, a pamphlet, called ' Some Doctrines in the Supralapsa^. rian Scheme examined,' &c. which Mr. Gill answered in a tract entitled, 'Truth Defended,' &c. In 1737 Mr. Gill was engaged in the baptismal controversy with Mr. Samuel Browne, a dissenting minister; all of which we shall pass over, for reasons already given. In this year he wrote and published Remarks on Mr. Samuel Chandler's Sermon preached to the societies for the reformation of manners, relating to the moral nature and fitness of things. When Mr. Gill first came to settle in London, which was in the year 1719, he became intimately acquainted, as he had been in some measure before, with that worthy minister of the gospel^ Mr. John Skepp, author of the Divine Ener gy: The second edition of which book, in 1751, Mr. then Dr. Gill, revised, and divided the work into chapters, with contents, for the more easy reading and better understand ing it; and prefixed a recommendatory preface to it, the memory of that excellent man being dear to him. This gentleman, though he had not a liberal education, yet, af ter he came into the ministry, through great diligence and industry, acquired a large share of knowledge in the lan guages in which the Bible was originally written : And especially in the Hebrew language, in which he took im mense pains, under the direction of a Jew teacher, and even dipped into Rabbinical Hebrew and writings pretty deeply^ As Mr. Gill had taken great delight in the He brew GILL. 468 brew language, as before observed, his conversation with this worthy minister rekindled a flame of fervent desire to obtain a more extensive knowledge of it, and especially of Rabbinical learning, which he then had but small acquain tance with, and little notion of any usefulness from it, which he now began to perceive, and more fully after wards. This gentleman dying in a year or two after Mr. Gill's fixing in London, he purchased most Of his Hebrew and Rabbinical books ; and now went to work with great eagerness, in reading them, and many others, which he af terwards obtained of a Jewish Rabbi he became acquaint ed with. H&plainly saw, that as the New Testament was Written by men who had all of them been Jews, and who, notwithstanding their being inspired, must needs retain and use many of the idioms of their language, and allude to rites, ceremonies, and customs peculiar to that people ; so the writings of the Jews, especially the more ancient ones, who lived nearest the times of the apostles, could not but be of use for the better understanding the phraseology •f the New Testament, and the rites and customs to which it frequently alludes. With this view he set about read ing their Targums, the Mishna, the Talmuds, the Rabbot, their ancient commentaries, the book of Zohar, and what ever else of this kind he could meet with: And in a course of between twenty and thirty years' acquaintance with those sort of writings, he collected together a large num ber of observations. Having also gone through, in this time, most part of the New Testament, in a way of ex position, in the course of his ministry, he put all toge ther, and in the year 1745 proposed to publish an Expo sition of the whole New Testament, in three volumes, folio. And the work meeting with encouragement very quickly, it was put to the press the same year, and was finished, the first volume in 1746, the second in 1747, and the third in 1748. Towards the close of this work, in 1748, Mr. Gill re ceived a diploma from the Marischal college and university at Aberdeen, creating him doctor in divinity, on account of his knowledge of the Scriptures, of the Oriental languages* and of Jewish antiquities, as expressed in the diploma: Along with which, or quickly after, he received two let ters, one from Professor Osborn, Principal of the univer sity, declaring to him, that on account of his learned de fence of the true sense of the holy Scriptures against Deists and infidels, and the reputation his other works had pro cured him in the learned world, as soon as it was moved in their 464 GIL L. their university to confer the degree of doctor in divinity on him, it was readily agreed unto : Which motion was •declared to be without the knowledge of Mr. Gill ; and that he, (Dr. Osborn) as Primarius Professor, made a pre sent to him of what was due to him on such a promotion. The other letter was from Professor Pollock, professor of divinity in the same university, and afterwards principal of it : In which he signified to Mr. Gill, that their society of the Marischal College had with great cheerfulness created him doctor in divinity; on account of that spirit of learn ing which appeared in his excellent Commentary on the New Testament ; and congratulated him upon it. In 1749 the Doctor was engaged in several controver sies respecting baptism with various persons. A few cir cumstantial things, or subordinate principles, have occa sioned more disputes in the Christian, church than all the essential or fundamental truths put together. In 1752 the Doctor wrote an answer to a pamphlet called ' Serious Thoughts upon the Perseverance of the Saints ;' written, as it after appeared, by Mr. John Wesley: Who, in another pamphlet, shifted the controversy from Perseverance to Predestination. Mr. Wesley entitled his piece, 'Predesti nation calmly considered :' In which he mostly contents himself with haranguing on reprobation. To this the Doc tor returned an answer the same year, and to the exceptions Mr. Wesley had made to part of his " Treatise on Per severance," respecting some passages of Scripture brought into the controversy ; without attempting, however, to answer one argument advanced by the Doctor in vindica tion of that doctrine. In 1753, a pamphlet being publish ed upon the old dispute of baptism, the Doctor thought proper to notice it by publishing another. In 1755 he re published Dr. Crisp's works, in two volumes, 8vo. with explanatory notes on such passages as had been excepted to in them, or needed any explanation ; with some Memoirs of the Doctor's life. In 1756 he quitted his Wednesday Evening Lecture, as before related, and published propo sals for printing his " Exposition of the Prophets," both the large and smaller, in two volumes, folio : And which were published in the two following years, 1757,1758; with an introduction to them on Prophecy, and with a Dissertation at the close of them concerning the Apocry phal writings. In the year 1757 a new meeting-house Was erected in Carter lane, St. Olive's street, Southwark; which was opened October 9, in the same year, when two sermons were preached by him on Exod. xx. 24. and after wards GILL. 465 Wards printed, entitled, " Attendance in Places of Reli gious Worship, where the Divine Name is recorded, en couraged." In 1761 th* Doctor published proposals for printing the remainder of his Exposition on the Old Tes tament, beginning at Genesis, and ending with Solomon's Song: The first volume of which was published in the be ginning of the year 1763; the second, in the beginning of the year 1764; the third, in the beginning of the year 1 765; and the fourth and last, in the beginning of the year 1766. In the year 1765, the old controversy about baptism was again revived, which we shall pass over in silence. In 1767 the Doctor published "A Dissertation on the Antiquities of the Hebrew Language, Letters, Vowel-Points, and Ac cents." This has been a subject of much altercation among the learned, to whom we shall leave it ; only observing, that if not one jot or tittle shall pass away from the law till all be fulfilled, how came it to pass, that aii the jots and tit tles (if the points are such) have been removed from the MS. copies of the law read in the temple and synagogues; and, by what authority, if they ever were there? But, non nostrum est tantas cvmponere lites. In the same year, Dr. Gill collated the various passages ©f the Old Testament, quoted in the Mishna, in the Tal- muds, both Jerusalem and Babylonian, and in the Rab- both ; and extracted the variations in them from the mo dern printed text, which he sent to Dr. Kehnicott at Ox ford, then'collating the several Hebrew manuscripts of the Old Testament that might be met with in any of the li braries in Europe; and which Dr. Kennicott thus acknow ledged his receipt of, in his state of that collation, pub lished in the year 1767: ' I have been highly obliged by the reverend and learned Dr. Gill* who has extracted and sent me the variations from the modern Bibles in the pas sages quoted in the Talmuds, both of Jerusalem and Ba bylon, and also in the Itabboth : Which variations in these ancient books of the Jews, affect the Hebrew text of the Old Testament, as the variations in the ancient Christian fathers affect the iGreek text of the New.1 in the year 1769* he published a Body of Doctrinal Divinity, in two volumes, 4to. which contain the substance of what he de livered from the;pulpit to the people under his care, for the space of Upwards of five years : And he gave the public reason to expect a third volume* then preparing, which would contain a Body of Practical Divinity, and which he proposed to do when he began his Course of Doctrinal Divinity, as his Introduction to that shews. In the year VOL. IV. 2 H 1770, 46f> HITCHIN. 1770, his Body of Practical Divinity was published : which, with the other two volumes, completes his whole Scheme of Divinity, which was the last work published by him. EDWARD HITCHIN, B.D. A HIS excellent Minister and solid Divine was born; about the year 1726, and had the advantage of pious pa rents, who took every possible care to secure to him the inestimable privilege of a religious education. Under the influence of their precepts and example, he was preserved from many of those sinful follies in youth, which are so hard to be thrown off in riper age; and under the impres sions of divine grace, with which God was pleased to bless the endeavours of his parents, he also became truly concerned for his eternal salvation at an age when the ge nerality of persons think of nothing but the pursuits- of the world, and have their pulse beating high only for va nities and the pleasures of time. It is no wonder, there fore, that, with such seriousness of spirit, and with the blessing of a fine natural understanding, he should wish to engage in the highest service for God upon earth, and in consequence that he should cultivate every suitable means of preparing himself for it. By education and principle a dissenter, though by grace of a most catholic and unbigot- ed spirit, he entered upon the proper studies under the di rection of tutors in a dissenting academy, and made such a proficiency in them^ as would have done honour to any se minary of learning, and have fitted him for the most dis tinguished employments in any church. His conscience led him to his particular profession with all its secular dis advantages; and the conscience of such men, grounded be yond all doubt upon the most perfect sincerity, is to be had in reverence even by those whose judgments in some cir cumstantials may with equal sincerity differ from them. It gives, and must give every serious mind a secret and solid satisfaction, that such men as Hitchin, Hervey, White- field, Grimshaw, Gill, and others, however they might di vide on some points and be distinguished by several pro fessions, are perfectly united now, and are become insepa rable constituent members in glory of one general assembly of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven. O that this unity of spirit among those blessed souls who enjoy the com- H I T C H I N. 467 communion of the Spirit of Truth, were more evident even here; and that every occasion of discord or disagreement were removed from among the men who are to pass a whole eternity together in the presence of God, and who will then be ashamed (if shame can enter heaven) that their minds and hearts could ever entertain coldness, difference, or disgust towards each other upon earth ! It certainly is not true religion, or real spirituality, which is the cause of all this, but the remaining corruptions, and the latent or unsubdued affections of our fallen nature. Mr. Hitchin's piety and ministerial abilities were soon noticed, after he appeared as a minister of the gospel: He settled early in London, as an assistant to Mr. Richard Rawlin, to whom he was highly acceptable, as well as to the flock over which in conjunction he presided. An able and gracious co-pastor is an excellent advantage to a young minister^ both for correction aud instruction in righ teousness ; and, it appears that Mr. Hitchin did not neglect this advantage from the friendship and talents of Mr. Rawlin. He grew in grace, and in the improvement of every useful gift, at the same time. Upon the death of Mr. Mordecai Andrews, Mr. Hitchin was unanimously chosen by the congregation to be their pastor in his stead ; and to this congregation he was a faithful and able dispenser of the gospel of salvation to the day of his death. He was no shallow divine. He drank deep into the spring, from whence all true grace and evangelical know ledge ever flowed to the church of God. It was his be lief, and it appears to be a right one, that the people of God in all ages were favoured with every necessary means of receiving and understanding the things which related to their eternal peace; and that, though particular dispensa tions, accommodated to particular times, might vary, yet the gospel and the grace of the gospel were ever the same. He did not ignorantly think, that Christ brought in a new or a different religion from that which patriarchs and pro phets had enjoyed; but that what he said and what he did* were elucidations only or declarations upon fact of all that had been testified concerning him from almost the founds ation of the world. This led him to study the Old Testa ment in a very particular manner; and he studied it with delight; because he saw that the whole of it related to Je sus Christ and his great salvation, under types, enigmas, similitudes, parables, prophecies, &c. and that Jesus Christ himself had referred to these, -in proof that he was the very 468 HITCHIN. Very person Who shouldcome, and that men were to look fof no other. He observed the force of the Hebrew language in describing these circumstances, and perceived that this very tongue also was only to be truly understood by that grace which enables men to understand the things them selves which it describes. 'Tis not merely the knowledge of Hebrew words or roots, therefore, which can capacitate a man to understand the ancient Scripture, but the Spirit of Grace, who first teaches the spiritual objects to the re newed soul, and then enlightens it to see an immense fund of erudition concerning them in the natural objects, and also in that holy tongue, which is framed wonderfully up on these last, in order to edify in the knowledge of the first. But a man without spiritual faculties, (as Mr. Hitchin, following the apostle, could not but observe) is incapable of this ; and though he may see Hebrew words, and the objects of nature which gave birth to them, with his out ward eyes, yet he hath no more true understanding of their heavenly import, while in this carnal state, than the beasts that perish. The things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God, is a maxim of everlasting truth; and con sequently, if the Spirit of God inspired the whole Bible, and diffused those things through every page, no man can understand it really and strictly without his aid. A boy,. indeed, may read it as an history; but, as. a mystery of God, which it ever was and is, and which it was express ly intended to be, from Genesis to- Revelation, tlie great est present scholars, as well as the ancient Scribes and Rab bins, must necessarily be ignorant of it, till their under standings (like those of the apostles themselves) are open ed, that they may understand the Scriptures. This is bumi* hating to the pride and presumption of man ; and so are all the dispensations- and dealings of God. It was a just and amiable character which the Rev. Miv Towle gave concerning him in an oration at his funeral,. and which therefore we transcribe with pleasure. ' While he was candid (says that valuable minister) and charitable -to those whose religious principles and practices were diffe rent from his own; looking on all with pleasure in whom he saw the image of his Divine Master, however they dif fered from him in lesser matters, and wishing the noblest welfare of such as were not of his mind, even in those things which he apprehended essential to Christianity; he Was open and resolute in his avowal of a regard for those sentiments, and that conduct, which he considered as en joined by Him, to whose will the most implicit, unreserv ed, HITCHIN. 469 ed, and cheerful obedience is at all times due. He was, indeed, naturally of a diffident and rather timorous dispo sition, yet he was not to be restrained from expressing a firm attachment to the adorable object of his worship, — the only foundation of his hope, — and the unerring rule of his obedience.— The last particular in his character I shall mention, is : — He was indefatigably diligent in his endea vours to compass the great ends of the Christian ministry, — to promote the glory of God, — and to advance the no blest interest of mankind : To this, his own house, the houses of his friends, and especially the house of God, bore constant testimony. Perhaps, I should not express myself too strong, if I was to say, that in some degree, (to use a remarkable scriptural expression) the zeal of God's house ate him up, exhausted his spirits, impaired his health, and at length put an end to his life: Like a bright burn ing taper, in giving light to others, he was himself con sumed. ' On hearing all this concerning my worthy brother, perhaps, many present feel a desire rising within them to know in what manner he was removed from our world ; in compliance then with the wishes of such, I would just add, that the circumstances of his death, were some of them painful, and some of them pleasing. It was painful to see him, for days before he obtained his dismission, sup ported in bed; at times insensible, and speechless : But' it was pleasing, during those intervals in which he had his senses, and was capable of speaking, to hear him express his cheerful resignation to the divine will— his firm trust in the mercy of God through Jesus Christ, the only Medi ator — the satisfaction with which he left the beloved com panion of his life, and his dear children, in the hands of his heavenly Father — and his strong desire to leave this world, and go to abetter; and to observe him, when, though sen sible, he could not speak, signifyingto his inquiring relatives and friends, that he was in possession of tranquillity, sub mission, and hope, with a manifest air of satisfaction and cheerfulness, on his wan emaciated countenance. ' His disposition was peculiarly amiable, friendly, and benevolent : His countenance might, indeed, lead some to suspect that he was of an unsociable, austere, forbidding temper ; but if any entertained such a suspicion, they were strangers to him. Those who knew him most, knew, that the law of kindness influenced his heart, dwelt on his lips, and governed his life ; that he was averse to return evil, disposed to do good, and even delighted to overcome evil with 470 HITCHIN. ¦with good. — He had not merely a sincere, but a high and strong veneration for the word of God. He indeed greatly valued that noble compendium of doctrines and du ties, ' The Assembly's Catechism ;' but then he valued that, and every other human composure, no farther than, as he apprehended, they expressed the mind of God, revealed in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, — that blessed book, which should ever be regarded as the sole, because the only infallible standard of faith and practice.' A very pathetic discourse was also preached upon the occasion of his death, which occurred on the eleventh of January 1774, in the forty-eighth year of his age, by the Reverend Mr. Brewer, on the twenty-third of January following, from a text which Mr. Hitchin himself had long- appointed for that purpose. It was from Psalm xlviii. l4. For this God is our God for ever and ever. He will be our guide even unto death. The application of this discourse in particular (though the whole is excellent) breathes so true a spirit of Catholicism and piety, that we cannot but believe' it will be an acceptable transcript to such of our se-i rious readers, as have not had an opportunity to peruse it. ' You see (says the lively and faithful preacher) what a comfortable passage of Scripture this was for your late dear pastor tolive upon. I call him your dear pastor ; he was dear to his family, to his friends, and to you his flock: Rejoice, that these words, his own choice for a funeral sermon, were not taken up merely as expecting death, or when death had laid its cold hand on him ; no— they had been words for his encouragement in life, in health, and whenever death should knock at his door. — It is true, he drank not in all the consolations of the text in his sickness, or when on his dying bed ; yet the repeated sweet sentences which dropped from his'lips, proved that he had supports from them — he had his sips, his glimpses, but now, O now!' he has his full draughts, and his full blaze in glory. ' What a cordial is this to me — to his brethren in the ministry — to you that loved him, occasionally now here — to you his dear flock — above all, to his dear family ! I know I loved him, and therefore I feel deeply the loss of him ; some humble hope have I, that I have also some in terest in the blessing held forth in the text, which makes it a cordial under this trial ; as I hope, though parted noWj to meet with him in glory to part no more. He was loved by many of the Lord's ministers of different names ; be cause he ever professed a love to all that he believed loved Jesus ; and therefore the Lord's ministers now weep for him. HITCHIN. 471 him. But, blessed be God ! as he has done weeping, so will they, when arrived at that glory to which he is got ; until then, let all the dear ministers of God prove their sense of this affliction, by walking more together in Chris tian affection, and cherishing a warmer ambition to honour the Gob of our salvation by zeal for his gospel and glo ry, and to be instruments in his hand to bring in sinners to Jesus, to recover backsliders, to comfort believers, get more communion with GpD, and conformity to him, until brought to an everlasting vision of and fruition with him. ' Many friends both absent and present, not immediately connected with this congregation, feel the loss for them selves, for Christ's interest in general, and for this interest in particular. — Some are now, perhaps, dropping a tear at home — others in one and another of the Lord's temples — some now without, and many here within — well, you shew by your affections, that it is to you an affliction ; and in deed the trial may soon come to your own temples, your families, your selves. God help you to see, whether God is your God ! Then, here is a cordial ; for, though separated soon, you will meet in glory to part no more for ever. — But the trial sharpens, as looking on you, his once dear congregation and church, — To you of the con gregation he has been a Boanerges, a Barnabas : O ! has he preached, and you heard in vain ? Think, O soul ! how awful to have him to stand forth as a swift witness against you at Christ's judgment-seat ! Would to God his death maybe your life! By some providence, or ordinance, may you at last feel your malady as sinners, and see and claim the remedy in Jesus ; that you may meet your dear minis ter with joy, and not with grief! ' But you of the congregation who can claim God as your salvation, you have. the best of comforts under your present cross : How shall I speak to you as a church ? I know that the tears trickling from your eyes, are occasion ed by the deep sorrow in your hearts ; but if God be your God, then he can, and will make up in himself the loss of your dear pastor. — Come you, my brethren in office in this church, encourage yourselves in the Lord your God, — be not discouraged, because your pastor was taken away in the midst of his usefulness : So was your other dear pastor, Mr. Andrews; and is it not a high privilege, rather than to outlive our usefulness? — the Lord help you to bless God for the use he made of him to others — and to your own souls. Now honour your character, and shew your love to your late pastor, by doing your best for the peace, unity, and 47* HITCHIN. and prosperity of the church, and may you live to see it provided with another pastor after God's own heart ! — Brethren and sisters of the church, rejoice ! though your pastors die, your God lives for ever ; bless him, if under; the present trial that touches you so tenderly, you can say, ' this GoD is our God,' then* until you die, and when you die, your God will take care of you, and at last bring you to see your dear pastor in glory : Who has already met many of his members that went before him ; who sees his dear parents there — -his dear brother Andrews, whom he succeeded — and among other glorified saints, those dear men of God, an Owen, a Guyse, a Gill, and a Whitefield, where, I am sure, hearts and hands are united. Would to God ! it may be a lesson to us yet in the church militant, who hope to meet sUch men of God in the church trium, pliant ! But the sweetest meeting of all will be With that gracious God, who brought us there. ' Well, my dear friends, prove your love, by living in love, keep close together, look up to the Lord by pfayer, to support you under; and profit you by the trial, and irt his own time, to provide for you ; and at last, as he has in part, completely fulfil this good word to you, that you may go and live with him you loved, never to part more. ' And now when going to address you his late dear fami ly, — I feel a secret pleasure that his late dear wife, and my dear sister, is absent ; or I fear what I have Said, or might say, would be more than her tender passions could bear, However, I hope that the Lord, that has sent, will yet send his sweet cordials, and especially this in the text, theft she will say, though tribulation, yet consolation also abounds. — I am sure, personally I cannot neglect any thing to testi* fy my love to her ; I fervently pray for her and hers ; and I am confident, you, as a church, will do the samej as the one best proof that at heart you loved your late dear pastor, But how shall I, how can I address you, his late dear chil dren ! I know, and you know still more, IiOW much he loved you, and I know you loved him. I feel the more for you, from an apprehension what my dear family will feel, when it is with me, as now with your dear father. Blessed be God! some of you have ^avouched, and publicly trio, the God of your father to be your God. O how did he joy in it ? How ought you now to joy in it* to find such a support under your loss ! — But are any of you stratt-r gers to the Lord?- God forbid you should remain so! Should this be the case, O how awful to think, that a fa ther who loved you — whom you loved, and for whom you now HITCHIN. m now Weep, will stand forth as a swift witness against you and say Amen to the awful sentence, Depart ye cursed, — but on the contrary, O that you may lay hold of the God of your father and mother, for your God ; that, at the great day, you, with them, may receive the joyful benediction, Come ye blessed. Finally, as a lover of your dear parent now living, and of him who is dead, let me beseech you to maintain love and duty to your dear mo ther ; live in love with one another ; and may God bless you all temporally, spiritually, and eternally ! ' In a word, may this be a teaching season to back sliders ; particularly to you (if any such) under the late care of my dear brother : 0 that if the word has not, may the rod reclaim you ! May. the Lord say, ret urn ye backslid ing children? I will heal your backslidings, and may you say, we return unto thee, for thou art the Lord our God! May the Lord make it also a quickening providence to us all ! to be ready at the Lord's call — to be up and doing while it is day, as the night cometh when no man can Work. I wish in God, that my soul, and the souls of all my dear brethren in the ministry, may be quickened by it, so as to spend and be spent for Christ and souls ; to go on, valiantly fighting the good fight, keeping the faith, till our course is finished, and we receive the crown. Particularly, may it be a humbling, teaching, quickening lesson to you his late dear charge ; and may you learn from it to live less on crea-* tures, and more on Jesus, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Come then ; a little longer, and he that shall come, will come, and will not tarry. — Soon, I trust, we shall have to say, as that good man Mr. Baxter did, when in agonizing pain on his death bed ; on a friend's ask ing him how he did, he replied * almost well ;' and soon he found it so, on getting to his everlasting rest. So, my dear hearers, a few more disappointments, a few more bereav- ings, a few more trials temporal and spiritual, and then, if this God be our God, we shall find he will be so for ever and ever — he will sweetly prove it, by being our guide unto — over^-and beyond death— and what then ? O then, no wanderings from God, no withdrawments of his blessed presence, no weariness in our Master's service, no coolness of love between brethren, no languor in our devotions : O then, faith will be swallowed up in vision, hope in fruition, grace in glory ; — then we shall be all we can wish or want to be, for place, for company, for enjoyment, for employ ment—and that, »ot for a day, a month, a year, but for eter nity J 474 TOPLADY. nity ! When we shall shout praises indeed to Father, Son, and Spirit, the God of our salvation.' AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY,* A.B. Wi E cannot give a more explicit account of this eminent Divine, than what hath been already published under the title of a ' Memoir of his Life and Death ;' and therefore we shall freely transcribe as much of it as is consistent with the plan of our volumes. ' The Memoirs of extraordinary men have always been acceptable to the world ; and much instruction has been gathered from their example. The mind often feels a force from facts, when it cannot be reached by theories ; and receives that kind of satisfaction from the proof or demon stration of a truth, which no mere principles, however just and correct, can possibly give it. To the Christian world, for the same reason, the examples of the heirs of salvation have been still more peculiarly valuable. They find doc trines of the highest and most lasting importance confirmed and substantiated by testimonies and evidences, which are not more serious and reviving than full and undeniable. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death ofhissaints ; and precious likewise in the sight of all his people. They have ocular demonstration, that grace can and does rise superior to nature; that the weak andfeeble in themselves are strong in the Lord and in the power of his might ; and that they are not only promised to be, but are, Conquerors and more than Conquerors through Him that loved them. These facts, therefore, of God's presence with his peopje, in the most trying of all human circumstances, cannot but be estimable in the eyes of those persons who look beyond the grave for their portion, and whose hopes can only be filled with im mortality. They are enabled to take courage from the Christian heroes gone before them, and, seeing the faithful ness of God to his promises in others, are emboldened for themselves to look forward with holy joy upon that peri od, when mortality shall, be swallowed up of life, and when their place upon earth shall know them no more. Conse quently, they may triumph in the glorious evidence of a better TOPLADY. 475 better inheritance, and long for that perfect consummation of bliss, which they are hereafter to share with the spirits of just men made perfect, and with the general assembly of the first born, which are written in heaven. ' For this purpose of comfort and edification, the fol lowing account of the late Reverend Mr. Toplady is com piled. If the reader from hence receive any good hope through grace, to pass through the valley of the shadow of death and to fear no evil, as he passed, the end will be an swered for which this memoir is penned, and for which alone it ought to be desired. The doctrines, preached by this able Divine, were brought into his- own experience by the grace of his Redeemer, and were his joy and triumph in the article of death : And if the same effect is wrought upon the hearts and consciences of other Christians, through his example, it would be the highest accomplishment of his wishes, as it would be a present evidence to themselves of their hereafter rejoicing with him, where he is rejoic ing, in the heaven of heavens, to all eternity. 'Tis this de monstration of experience, or the proof of the Christian doctrine upon fact, that comforts and lifts up God's peo ple in their last hours ; for this, (as a very gracious man observed) ' goes much farther than the judgment, and passes the strength of mere natural understanding ; and hence we feel, we taste, we enjoy ; yea, the very voice of Christ is heard in the soul, by which we know that we are his, and that he is our's.' 'Tis the shield of faith alone which repels the terror of death, and quenches the fiery darts of the devil. ' His father was Richard Toplady, Esq, a major in the army, and his mother Catharine Bate, sister to the late Re verend Julius Bate, and to theReverend Mr. Bate,rectorof St. Paul's, Deptford, by whom they were married, at the said church, on December 31st, 1737. They had issue first a son, Francis, who died in his infancy, and afterwards Augustus Montague Toplady, the subject of our memoir, who was born at Farnham, in Surry, on Tuesday, Novem ber the4th, 1740, and there baptized. His godfathers were Augustus Middleton and Adolphus Montague, Esquires; in respect to whom, he bore the Christian name of the one, and the surname of the other. His father died at the siege of Carthagena, soon after his birth. He received the ru diments of his education at Westminster school ; but, it be coming necessary for his mother to make a journey to Ire land to pursue some claims lo an estate in that kingdom', he accompanied her thither, and was entered at Trinity College in 476 TOPLADY. in Dublin, at which seminary be took his degree of Batche- lor of Arts. Being awakened to the knowledge of God and of his own heart, he prosecuted his studies for the mi nistry of the gospel, with the most indefatigable ardour. He thought, and thought justly, that men in the most sa cred and important of all professions should be qualified in every respect for their function : and that sciolists in the clerical office were, generally speaking, more inexcusable and more dangerous, than empirics and pretenders in the other businesses of life. As he abhorred the Popish tenet, that ' ignorance is the mother of devotion ;' so his wish, as well as his duty, was to be thoroughly furnished, and to avoid the presumption of teaching the ignorant and those that are out of the way, without having the knowledge, as well as the grace, indis(>ensably requisite for that purpose). ' He could not but believe, with some other great and good men, that a man must be very much unqualified to ex plain the Scriptures to others, without being acquainted himself with the languages in which they were written, and with those other invaluable books upon religious subjects, which have been handed down, in the learned tongues, through a long succession of ages. Of course, there fore, he was diligent in all human attainments : And the church will undoubtedly witness the advantages she has received, from this happy conjunction of spiritual and na tural endowments. Thus prepared, by grace in his soul and knowledge in his understanding, which was naturally clear and strong, he received orders on Trinity Sunday, the 6th of June 1762 ; and, after some time, was inducted first into the livingof Blagdonin Somersetshire, and afterwards into that of Broad Hembury in Devonshire. In both these retirements hepursued hislabours with unremitting assidui ty, and composed most of those writings which will ren der service to the church, and do honour to his memory, .while truth and learning shall be esteemed valuable among men. He had for some years occasionally visited and spent some time in London ; but, in the year 1775, finding his constitution much impaired by the moist atmosphere of Devonshire, with which it never agreed, he removed to London entirely, after some unsuccessful attempts to ex change his living for another, of equivalent value, in some of the middle counties. Here, by the solicitation of his numerous friends, and from a desire to be useful wherever the Divine Providence might lead him, he engaged the chapel belonging to the French Reformed, near Leicester Fields ; where he preached twice in the week, while his health TOPLADY. 477 health permitted, and afterwards occasionally, as much asj or rather more than, he was well able to do. In this mi nistration, it pleased God to remove him, by a slow con sumption, from the church militant On earth, to the church triumphant in heaven, on Tuesday the 11th of August 1778. His body was buried, agreeable to his own desire, communicated to some friends, in Tottenham- Court-Chapel on the Monday following; where, though his wishes, like those of the famous St. Basil, were against all parade and observation upon such an occasion, it was attended by a numerous concourse of people, many of whom seemed deeply sensible of the loss of so able a pillar in the church of God. • It would be unnecessary in this place to say any thingof his writings. They speak for themselves, and shew the eminent abilities and learning, which through grace Were given him. A catalogue of his publications is subjoined ; and there are some other pieces, which, after the signing of his last will and testament, he gave leave to his executor to dispose of, as he might think proper, and which probably may hereafter appear. It is right, however, to inform the reader, that his intense application to study, which he fre quently pursued through the night to three and four o'clock in the morning, seems to have been the means of inducing his disorder, and of accelerating his end. From this se vere pursuit, so long as his body was able to bear it, he could not be dissuaded. He thought himself called upon to assert and maintain the truths of the GospeU and he was resolved to relinquish this duty only with his breath. To a friend, who had expressed some concern for his health, upon account of his close applications, some time before his disorder was confirmed, he wrote the following words : " God give us to sink deeper and deeper into his love, and to rise higher and higher into the image of his holi ness ! And thoroughly persuaded I am, that, the more, we are enabled to love and resemble Him, the more active we shall be to promote his glory, and to extend his cause, with our lips, our pens, our fives, our all. Be this our business, and our bliss, on earth. In heaven, we shall have nothing to do, but to see Him as He is, to participate his glory, and to sing his praise, in delightful, in never-ending concert with angels, with saints who are got home before us, and with those of the elect, whom we knew and loved below. I would not give sixpence for a friendship, which time and death are able to quench. Our friendship is not of that evanid species. I can, therefore, subscribe myself, " Ever and for ever your's in Christ." ' Here 478 TOPLADY. ' Here we see the great spring and motive of his labours/ and the object which directed his activity in his Master's' service. He had the desired satisfaction to see his public ministrations, both by word and writing, extensively blest: And there are many left behind him, who will doubtless be his joy and crown of rejoicing, in the day of the Lord Je sus. Like Luther, he was hostis acerrimus, a very cutting adversary to error ; and his love to truth was as strong and ardent, as his abilities were quick and powerful to defend it, when attacked or opposed. Witness his own expres sions in a letter to the friend above-mentioned, upon the defection of some persons from the cause of truth: " For my own part, (says he) I wish to live and die with the sword of the Spirit in my hand ; and, as Young expresses it, ' Never to put off my armour till I put on my shroud.' As far as my situation will admit, I hope always to act up- to this maxim." The character given by an aneient wri ter, of one of the fathers,* who combated the Arian heresy on its appearance, that he was one of the firmest and the first of the whole band who contended for the truth, might, without exaggeration, be applied to Mr. Toplady, in his opposition to the reigning heterodoxy of Arfninius. Nor did he fail of his wish: He had (as it were) taken measure for his shroUd before he laid down his pen. His style was nervous and masculine; his language easy and flowing, without being florid or diffuse ; and his arguments close, clear, and pertinent. In a word, he was to the opposers of truth, a Boanerges, but to its friends a Barnabas. ' He had no preferment in the church besides the vicarage of Broad Hembury, which, as his mind could never brook the idea of living ill with his parish upon the account of tythes, did not amount, communibus annis, to eighty pounds a-year. For this living he exchanged the other above- mentioned, about eight or ten miles distant, that had been procured for him by his friends in a mode which (though usual enough) his conscience could not approve; and there fore, when he became acquainted with the manner of their diligence, which was not for some time afterwards, he could not rest satisfied till he had parted with it. He did not seek preferments, because he could not solicit them in the com mon way. His own account of his engaging in the pasto ral office, in the introduction to that masterly work, entitled " Historic Proof of the doctrinal Calvinism of the Church of England," is too remarkable to be omitted here : " I bless- * Theodoret. de Jacob. Antioch. apud Cave in Hist. Lib. TOPLADY. 479 bless God (says he) for enabling me to esteem the re proach of Christ greater treasure than all the applause of men, and all the preferments of the church. When I re^ ceived orders, / obtained mercy to be faithful ; and, from that moment, gave up what is called the world, so far as I conceived it to interfere with faith and a good conscience. The opposition which I have met with in the course of my ten years' ministry, has been nothing, compared with what I expected would ensue on an open steady attach ment to the truths of God." He could say with Arch bishop Warham, Satis viatici ad ctelum : He had enough to carry him to heaven, and but very little more. How % rarely, in these times, do we find either principle or con duct so truly exemplary ! / ' But the view of this good man's last sickness and death is principally intended here. He met the King of Terrors, disarmed of his terrors through the grace of his Saviour, and found him an angel, a messenger of peaee. He had long been visibly declining in his health ; but could only be prevailed upon to. restrain from preaching, for some time before his decease, by the express injunction of his physician, and the particular intreaties of his friends. Indeed, his feebleness of body, for some months before his end, was such, that, when he attempted to speak in public, he could scarce be heard for the few minutes he was able to stand, and seemed almost like a man lifted up to preach from the grave. ' As his outward man wasted and decayed, his inward man was refreshed and renewed day by day. Towards the close of his mortal life, the consolations ofGoD in him were neither small nor few. He looked, not only with composure, but delight, on the grave, and groaned ear nestly for his heavenly habitation. He had constantly, to use Dr. Young's expression, ' One eye on death, and one full fix'd on Heaven.' In this respect, he most happily exemplified his own obser vation, communicated upon the death of a friend. " I have long observed, (says he) that such of God's people as are least on the mount while they travel to heaven, are highest on it, and replenished with the richest discoveries of divine love, in the closing scene of life. When they come in ac tual view of that river, which parts the church below from the church above, the celestial city rises full in sight ; the sense of interest in the covenant of grace becomes clearer and brighter; the book of life is opened to the eye of as surance ; the Holy Spirit more feelingly applies the blood of 480 TOPLADY. of sprinkling, and warms the soul with that robe of righ* teousness which Jesus wrought. The once feeble believer is made to be as David. The once trembling hand is en abled to lay fast hold on the cross of Christ. The sun goes down without a cloud. — Weighty and beautiful are those lines of Dr. Watts i " Just such is the Christian — His face he begins, Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins, And melts into tearsi Then he breaks out, and shines^ And travels his heavenly way. But, as he draws nearer to finish his race$ Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace ; And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days, Of rising in brighter array." * To several of his friends, who visited him in the last stage of his decline, he used many striking expressions of the comforts vouchsafed him, and of the sweet earnests of glory which he felt in his soul, fjome of these friends committed to paper several of his most remarkable words^ for their Own memory and for the satisfaction of othersi In conversation with a gentleman of the faculty, not long before bis death, he frequently disclaimed with abhorrence the least dependence on his own righteousness, as any cause of his justification before God, and saidj that he rejoiced only in the free, complete, and everlasting salvation of God's elect by Jesus Christ, through the sanctification of1 the Holy Spirit. We Cannot satisfy the reader more thart by giving this friend's own relation of his intercourse and conversation. ' A remarkable jealousy was apparent iri his whole conduct, for fear of receiving any part of that honour, which is due to Christ alone. He desired to be no thing, and that Jesus might be all, and in all. — His feelings were so very tender upon this subject, that I once very un designedly put him almost in an agony, by remarking the great loss which the church of Christ would sustain by his death, at this particular juncture. — The utmost distress was immediately visible in his countenance, and he ex claimed to this purpose : " What ! by my death ? No ! By my death ? No. — Jesus Christ is able, and will, by proper instruments, to defend his own truths. — And with regard to what little I have been enabled to do in this way, not to me, not to me, but to his name, and to that only, be the glory." ' Conversing upon the subject of election, he said, " That God's everlasting love to his chosen people ; his eternal, particular, TOPLADY. 481 particular, most free, and immutable choice of them in Christ Jesus; was without the least respect to any work or works of righteousness wrought, or to be wrought, or that ever should be wrought, in them or by them : For God's election does not depend upon our sanctification, but our sanctification depends upon God's' election and appointment of us to everlasting life." At another time, he was so affected with a sense of God's everlasting love to his soul, that he could not refrain from bursting into tears. ' The more his b6dily strength was impaired, the more vigorous, lively, and rejoicing his mind seemed to be. From the whole tenor of his conversation during our in terviews, he appeared not merely placid and serene, but he evidently possessed the fullest assurance of the most trium phant faith. He repeatedly told me, that he had not had the shadow of a doubt respecting his eternal salvation, for near two years past. It is no wonder, therefore, that he so earnestly longed to be dissolved and to be with Christ. His soul seemed to be constantly panting heaven-ward ; and his desires increased the nearer his dissolution ap proached. — A short time before his death, at his request, I felt his pulse '; and lie desired to know What I thought of it. I told him, that his heart and arteries evidently beat (almost every day) weaker and weaker. He replied immediately, with the sweetest smile upon his countenance, " Why, that's a good sign that my death is fast approach ing ; and blessed be God, I can add, that my heart beats every day stronger and stronger for glory." ' A few days preceding his dissolution, I found him sit ting up in his arm-chair, and scarcely able to move or speak. I addressed him very softly, and asked if his consolations continued to abound, as they had hitherto done. He quickly replied, " O, my dear Sir, it is impossible to de scribe how good God is to me. Since I have been sit ting in this chair this afternoon, (glory be to his name!) I have enjoyed such a season, such sweet communion with God, and such delightful manifestations of his presence with, and love to my soul, that it is impossible for words, Or any language, to express them. I have had peace and joy unutterable : And I fear not, but that God's conso lations and support will continue." — But he immediately recollected himself, and added, " What have I said? God may, to be sure, as a Sovereign, hide his face and his smiles from me ; however, I believe he will not ; and if he should, VOL. IV. 2 I yet 482 TOPLADY. yet still will I trust in him : I know I am safe and secure, for his love and his covenant are everlasting." ' To another friend, who, in a conversation with him upon the subject of his principles, had asked him whether any doubt remained upon his mind respecting the truth of them;! he answered, " Doubt, Sir, doubt ! Pray, use not that word when speaking of me. I cannot endure the term ; at least, while God continues to shine upon my soul in the gracious manner he does now : Not (added he) but that I am sensible, that while in the body, if left of him, I am capable, through the power of temptation, of calling into question every truth of the gospel. But, that is so far from being the case, that the comforts and manifestations of his love are so abundant, as to render my state and condition the most desirable in the world. I would not exchange my condition with any one upon earth. And, with respect to my principles, those blessed truths, which I have been enabled in my poor measure to maintain, appear to me, more than ever, most gloriously indubitable. My own existence is not, to my apprehen sion, a greater certainty." ' The same friend calling upon him a day or two before his death, he said, with hands clasped, and his eyes lifted up, and starting with tears of the most evident joy, " O my dear Sir, I cannot tell you the comforts I feel in my soul: They are past expression. The consolations of God to such an unWorthy wretch are so abundant, that he leaves me nothing to pray for but a continuance of them. I en joy a heaven already in my soul. My prayers are all con verted into praise. Nevertheless, I do not forget that I am still in the body, and liable to all those distressing fears which are incident to human nature when under tempta tion, and without any sensible divine support. But, so long as the presence of God continues with me in the de gree I now enjoy it, I cannot but think that such a de sponding frame is impossible." All this he spoke with an emphasis the most ardent that can be conceived. ' Speaking to another particular friend upon the subject of his " Dying Avowal," (a paper which he published a little before his death, respecting a report which was said to have been raised of his recanting his writings) he ex pressed himself thus: " My dear friend, those great and glorious truths which the Lord, in rich mercy, has given me to believe, and which He has enabled me (though very feebly) to stand forth in the defence of, are not (as those who believe not or oppose them, say) dry doctrines, or mere TOPLADY. 483 mere speculative points. — No. But, being brought into practical and heart-felt experience, they are the very joy and support of my soul ; and the consolations flowing from them, carry me far above the things of time and of sense." Soon afterwards he added, " So far as I know my own heart, I have no desire but to be entirely passive ; to live, to die, to be, to do, to suffer, whatever is God's blessed will concerning me; being perfectly satisfied, that as He ever has, so He ever will do that which is best concerning me ; and that he deals out in number, weight, and measure, whatever will conduce most to his own glory, and to the good of his people." ' Another of his friends, mentioning likewise the re port that was spread abroad Of his recanting his former principles, he said, with some vehemence and emotion, " I recant my former principles ! God forbid that I should be so vile an apostate." To which he presently added, with great apparent humility, " And yet that apostate I should soon be, if I were left to myself." To the same friend, conversing upon the subject of his sickness, he said, " Sickness is no affliction; pain no curse; death it self no dissolution." ' Mr. Toplady had not learned the doctrines of grace in a human school; and it is no wonder, therefore, that the teacher from whom he obtained them neither suffered him to forget nor forego them. Writing, some time since, to a friend he had long esteemed, he used these words re specting his own conversion : " I well remember, that when I first began to discern something of the absurdities and impieties of Arminianism, my mind was in a state of suspense for many succeeding months. Dr. Manton's ser mons on the xviith of St. John, were the means through which my Arminian prejudices received their primary shock : A blessing, for which an eternity of praise will be a poor mite of acknowledgment to that God whose Spi rit turned me from darkness to light. But I was a con siderable time (and not till after much prayer, and much reading on each side of the argument) ere my judgment was absolutely fixed. I shall, when in heaven, remember the year 1758 with gratitude and joy: As I, doubtless, shall the year 1755, in which I was first awakened to feel my need of Christ." All his conversations, as he ap proached nearer and nearer to his decease, seemed more and more happy and heavenly. He frequently called him self the happiest man in the world. "O! (says he) how this soul of mine longs to be gone ! Like a bird imprison ed 484 TOPLADY. ed in a cage, it longs to take its flight. O that I had wiflgs like a dove, then would I flee away to the realms of bliss, and be at rest for ever ! O that some guardian angel might be commissioned ; for I long to be absent from this bo dy, and to be with my Lord for ever." Being asked by a friend if he always enjoyed such manifestations, he an swered, " I cannot say there are no intermissions ; for, if there were 'nOtj my -consolations would be more and greater than I could possibly bear; but, when they abate, they leave such an abiding sense of God's goodness, and of the certainty of my being fixed upon the eternal rock Christ Jesus, that my soul is still filled with peace and joy" ' At another time, and indeed for many days together, he cried out, " 0 what a day of sunshine has this been to me! I have not words to express it. It is unutterable. O, my friends, how good is God f Almost without in terruption, his presence has been with me." And then, repeating several passages of Scripture, he added, " What a great thing it is to rejoice in death !" Speaking of Christ, he said, " His love is unutterable!" He was happy in declaring, that the viiith chapter of the Epistle to the Ro mans, from the thirty-third to the end of the six following verses, were the joy and comfort of his soul. Upon that portion of Scripture he often descanted with great delight, and would be frequently ejaculating, " Lord Jesus ! why tarriest thou so long?" He sometimes said, " I find as the bottles of heaven empty : they are filled again ;" meaning, probably, the continual comforts'of grace which he abun dantly enjoyed. When he drew near his end, he said, waking from a slumber, " O what delights ! Who can fa thom the joys of the third heaven?" And, a little before his departure* he was blessing and praising God for conti nuing to him his understanding in clearness; " but (added he in a rapture) for what is most of all, his abiding pre sence, and the shining of bis love upon my soul. The sky (says he) is clear; there is no cloud: Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!", Within the hour of his death, he called his friends and his servant, and asked them, " If they could give him up?" Upon their answering in the affirmative,- since it pleased the Lord to be so gracious to him, he repli ed, " O what a blessing it is you are made willing to give me up into the hands of my dear Redeemer, and to part with me : It will not be long before God takes me ; for no mortal man can live, (bursting, while he said it, into tears of joy) after the glories which God has manifested to my soul." TOPLADY. 48? soul." Soon after this he closed his eyes, and found (as Milton finely expresses it) A death like sleep, A gentle wafting to immortal life." f Thus departed from this present evil world the Rev, Mr. Toplady, and, now delivered from sin and sorrow, is doubtless employed in thanksgiving, where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest.* May those who read this account of him, be also prepar ed for the Lord's appearing, that they, together with him and myriads of blessed spirits gone before him may inherit the promises ! As a controversial writer, he could not fail of making many enemies, whose errors he had freely attacked, and who may therefore be disposed to consider him not in the most candid view. But the time is at hand, when both they who revile, and they who are reviled, must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ: Let no man, therefore, judge before the time, until the Lord come, who will make maT nifest the counsels of the heart. Real Christians, respecting their spiritual life, have but one object to view, which is Jehovah their Redeemer ; and but one rule to follow, which is his ever-blessed word. And with respect to each other, Luther's favourite saying maybe received for a max im, ' That Charity beareth all things, and yieldeth all things ; but Faith nothing.' In Heaven, all the faithful have but one heart and soul, whatever differences or deno minations they may have borne below. In the mean time, happy are they, who can so bear and forbear, as not to give up the truth, which is to be sacrificed to no man ; and yet can so assert it, when called upon by Divine Providence, as neither to court nor to fear the faces of any. ' The following soliloquy, written some years ago by Mr- Toplady upon the death of a valued friend, has been thought * It is not improper to note here, that a very false and shocking re port was circulated not long after his death, chiefly in Yorkshire, that Mr. Toplady had departed, like the wretched Spira, despairing and blaspheming, and that this Memoir of bis Life was a mere romance, fabricated by his friends. To detail and circulate lies upon matters of this kind would be dreadfully impious in Mr. Toplady's friends, and ought to have been fully proved by those who pretended to detect them. Upon this account, therefore, that truly pious and excellent Gentleman, Sir Richard Hill, Bart, addressed a letter, dated Hawkstone, Nov. 29, 17T9, to Mr. John Wesbey, who was said to be the author of this scanda lous detraction, desiring him to exculpate himself, or his silence would be considered as a tacit acknowledgment of his guilt. — We are sorry to, add, — no answer was given. 486 TOPLADY. thought so apposite to himself in his own dying hour, that it is presented without any farther apology. It will pro bably be perceived by most readers, that the Author had in view the memorable verses of the dying Emperor Adrian : But the dark desponding thought of the Heathen, and the illustrious hope of the Christian, afford a comparison most, gloriously advantageous on the side of the gospel.* " The DYING BELIEVER to his SOUL. " Deathless principle, arise : Soar, thou native of tlie skies ; Pearl of price, by Jesus bought, To his glorious likeness wrought, Go, to shine before his throne ; Deck his mediatorial crown : Go, his triumphs to adorn ;> Made for God, to God return. " Lo, He beckons from on high ! Fearless to his presence fly; Thine the merit of his blood ; Thine the righteousness of God. 1{ Angels, joyful to attend, Hov'ring, round thy pillow fiend ; Wait to catch the signal giv'n, And escort thee quick to Heav'n. " Is thy earthly house distrest ? Willing to retain her guest ? 'Tis not thou, but she, must die ? Fly, celestial tenant, fly. Burst thy shackles, drop thy clay, Sweetly breathe thyself away : * Adrian to his Soul on his Death-bed : Animula vagula, blandula, Hospes, comesque corporis, ' Qua; nunc abibis in loca I'allidula, rigida, nudula, jVee, ut soles, dabisjocos! Mr. Pope has given this Translation : Ah ! fleeting spirit ! wand'ring fire, That long hast warm'd my tender breast, Must thou no more this frame inspire ? No more a pleasing, cheerful guest? Whither, ah ! whither arf thou flying ? To what dark, undiscover'd shore ? Thou seem'st all trembling, shiv'ring, dying ; And wit and humour are no more. Singing, TOPLADY. 487 Singing, to thy crown remove ; Swift of wing, and fir'd with love. " Shudder not to pass the stream : Venture all thy care on him ; Him, whose dying love and pow'r Still'd its tossing, hush'd its roar. Safe is the expanded wave ; Gentle, as a summer's eve : Not one object of his care Ever suffer'd shipwreck there. See the haven full in view ! Love divine shall bear thee through. Trust to that propitious gale : Weigh thy anchor, spread thy sail. " Saints, in glory perfect made, Wait thy passage through the shade : Ardent for thy coming o'er, See, they throng the blissful shore. Mount, their transports to improve : Join the longing choir above : Swiftly to their wish be giv'n : Kindle higher joy in Heav'n. Such the prospects that arise To the dying Christian's eyes ! Such the glorious vista, faith Opens through the shades of death !" His Works : " I. The Church of England vindicated from the Charge of Arminianism ; and the Case of Armi- nian Subscription particularly considered ; in a Letter to the Reverend Dr. Nowell, 1769. II. The Doctrine of ab solute Predestination stated and asserted ; with a Prelimi nary Discourse on the Divine Attributes : Translated in great measure from the Latin of Jerom Zanchius ; with some account of his life prefixed, 1769. III. A Letter tq the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, relative to his pretended abridgment of Zanchius on Predestination, 1770. 2d edit. 1771. IV. A Caveat against unsound Doctrines : A Ser mon preached at Blackfriars, April 29, 1770. V. Jesus seen of Angels ; and God's Mindfulness of Man : Three Sermons, preached at Broad Hembury, Devon, Dec. 25, 1770. VI. Free Thoughts on the projected Application to Parliament for the Abolition of Ecclesiastical Subscrip tions, 1771. VII. More Work for Mr. John Wesley: Or > a Vindication of the Decrees and Providence of God from the Defamations of a late printed paper, entitled, « The 488 C 0 N D E R. 1 The Consequence proved,' 1772. VIII. Clerical Sub scription no Grievance : A Sermon, preached at the an nual Visitation of the Archdeaconry of Exeter, May 12, 1772. IX. Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism of the Church of England, in two vols. 8vo. 1774. X. Free- Will and Merit fairly examined ; or Men not their own Saviours: A Sermon, preached at Blaekfriars, May 25, 1774. XI. Good News -from Heaven; or, the Gospel a joyful Sound : A Sermon, preached at the Lock-Chapel, June 19, 1774. XII. The Scheme of Christian and Phi losophical Necessity asserted, in answer to Mr. John Wes ley's Tract on that subject, 1775. XIII. Joy in Heaven, and the Creed of Devils : Two Sermons, preached in London, 1775. XIV. Moral and Political Moderation recommended: A Sermon, preached on the General Fast, Dec. 13, 1776. XV. Collection of Hymns for Public and Private Worship, 1776. XVI. His Dying Avowal, dated Knightsbridge, July 22, 1778.'? JOHN CONDER, D. D. W E are indebted for most of the following account of this valuable Minister to a pathetic sermon, occasioned by his death, and preached by the Reverend James Webb, at the Doctor's late meeting-house in Moorfields; and to a manuscript account, with which we have been favoured by his son, Mr. T. Conder. He was born at Wimple in Cambridgeshire on the third of June, in theyear 1714, and bred upamong the Dissenters of the Independent persuasion. After passing one or two grammar schools, he continued his education under Mr. S. Parsons of Clerkenwell by the help of the ' King's Head Society,' which was instituted to bring up promising young men for the dissenting ministry ; and he finished his studies under Mr. J. Eames. He began his public ministry in the year 1788, afid was appointed to a congregation at Cam bridge in 17S9, where he continued about sixteen years, with acceptance and usefulness. He was not only much esteemed by the people of his own profession among whom he ministered, but by those of other persuasions, who had the happiness of his acquaintance, for his candour, libera lity, and gracious endowments, ¦ He continued a preacher for above forty years, in which time (about 1 754) he became ' a tutor C 0 N D E R. 489 a tutor to prepare others for the ministerial office, which duty he discharged during the space of near thirty years. October 3, 1759, he was chosen one of the Preachers of the ' Merchants' Lecture,' at Pinner's Hall* May 21, 1760, he was chosen co-pastor with Mr. Hall, to the Meeting on the Pavement, Moorfields; and, from Mr. Hall's death in 1763, he continued to be sole pastor of that congregation till 1778, when the Rev. Mr. Bennet was chosen his assistant*. Here he continued his valuable la bours till his departure hence. His life was indeed a bles sing, and his memory is blessed. We are told by the Rev. Mr. Bennet, who delivered an excellent oration at his in terment, that ' it was the darling theme of his ministrations to recommend Christ in his person, offices, work, and grace, to poor sinners, and that there have been but few, in any age of the Christian church, who were more deeply ac quainted with the things of salvation, or could more skilfully divide the word of truth. This Gospel he uni formly preached to others; this Gospel he lived upon for himself; this Gospel also he died upon, finding it to be the joy and rejoicing of his heart.' Faithful is He that calleihyou, who also will do it. 1 Thess. y. 24. These were the words of the text to his funeral sermon ; and these words, says Mr. Webb, who preached it, were the Doctor's ' support under his heavy trials, and in his views of death and judgment.' He had the comfort of them even in death itself. He expressed a sted fast unshaken affiance in the grace, faithfulness, and Iovq of a covenant God in Christ ; an assurance of the truth of that Gospel, which he had uniformly preached ; and a lively hope of a blessed immortality, through the media tion and intercession of the great Redeemer.' Some months before he was laid aside from his public work, he was con versing with a friend on the great importance of evange lical doctrines, and with a peculiar degree of emphasis and affection told 'him, '.' he had attained the full assurance of faith ; for, after searching the Scriptures with the closest at tention and care, he had not a doubt or scruple respecting the truth of any, of those grand fundamental doctrines he had preached and lived upon." He exhorted his friend to continue stedfast in them, as he was sure nothing else could build up the church of Christ, or administer support to his own soul. When it pleased the Lord to visit him with a paralytic stroke, a few weeks before his dissolution, he said to the same friend, " Well, my dear brother, it is now over with me for this life: I must leave you to take care of the church, and doubt not but the^ Lord will be with you. How 490 C O N D E R. How long I may have to suffer in this way, ere I get my dismission, I cannot say, and desire to leave. But I bless God, I can say with Dr. Grosvenor, that I have no doubt all things are rightly settled between me and my Master ; and all that I am now concerned about is, to take a decent farewell of the world." At another time, he said with cheerfulness, " That, had he his life to spend over again, he would preach the same Gospel, for it was the truth of God ; and that he would neither change Gospel nor state with any one." When his friend inquired about the frame of his mind, he answered, " That though he did not enjoy those bright manifestations* which some had been favoured with, he had an unwavering confidence in God as his God ; was carried above all doubts, respecting his interest in the love of Christ ; and had no fears as to the conse quences of death, though he often dreaded the pains of dying." He frequently exhorted his children to think of these words : God is our refuge and strength ; a very present kelp in trouble. To which he added : " I have found him so; and if you fear and trust in him, you will find him so to you." On the morning of his death, hearing the bells of Hackney ringing, he asked, " Why they rung so?" and being answered, that it was the Restoration day, he said, " Who knows but it may be my Restoration day ?" He departed iu the night following, at Homerton, May 30th, 1781, in the sixty-seventh year of his age, without the least wavering in his confidence towards God, and is now doubtless numbered among the saints in light. His remains were interred in Bunhill Fields. He married in 1744 to a daughter of Mr. John Flindel at Ipswich, by whom he had seven sons, five of whom survived him. The following Epitaph was composed by himself, in order to prevent the adulations which (he thought) are too common in com positions of this kind made by others: H S F JOANNES CONDER, S. T. P. Praeco evangelicus, Pastor annos sexdecim Cantabrigise ; deinde, . Londini unum et viginti. Inter Fratres Dissentientes Praeses Academicus, Vico Homertonensi. Natus est Agro Cantabrigiensi, A. S. 1714. Obiit Hackney, 30° die Maii 1781. Mtat : suee, 67°. Peccavr, MADDOCI 491 Peccavi, Resipui. Confidi. Amavi. Requiesco. Resurgam. Et ex gratia Christi, ut ut indignus, Regnabo. His Works. " I. A Serious Address to all sober Chris tians, &c. on the important Subject of a Gospel Ministry. London, 1753. Without his name. II. A Sermon preach ed to the Congregational Church at Cambridge, Oct. 13, 1754, from Acts xx. 32. London, 1755. III. An Ordi nation Sermon, preached July 7, 1756, at Miles's Lane, London, from 1 Thess. iii. 8. IV. Another preached May 11, 1758, at New Broad Street, from 1 Thess. v. 12, 13. V. An Exhortation at the Ordination of the Rev. Mr. Rich. Winter, June 14, 1759, at New-Court, near Lincoln's Inn-Fields, from Jer. xxiii. 28. VI. A Sermon, preached before the Society for the Reformation of Manners, at Salter's Hall, Aug. 3, 1763, from 1 John iii. 8. VII. A Funeral Sermon on the death of the Rev. Mr. Thomas Hall, June 27, 1762, from Heb. xiii. 7. VIII. Another on the death of Dr. Guyse, Nov. 29, 1761 , from Psalm xxxvii. 37. IX. An Ordination Sermon preached at the Old Meeting- House, Cambridge, Oct. 13, 1768, from Heb. xiii. 22." ABRAHAM MADDOCK. J. HIS humble, excellent, and faithful servant of Jesus Christ, was born June 1st, 1713, in Long Acre, West minster, of serious parents, who not only gave him a libe ral but a religious education. They lived many years. His father died in 1 748, aged eighty-eight ; and his mother in 1763, aged eighty-six. Mr. Maddock himself was brought up to the Law, and in November 1 733 was ad mitted an Attorney, in which profession he continued till the year 1757, when (on the 25th of September) he was or dained Deacon by Dr. Thomas, late Bishop of Lincoln, at Bugden. He received Priest's Orders on the 23d of Sep- temberl 759,from Dr. Terrick, then Bishop of Peterborough. He was, like his Redeemer, a man of sorrows and ac quainted with grief from his earliest days ; and his afflic tions became sanctified afflictions, which, by great grace and considerable learning, qualified him for the work of the ministry in an extraordinary degree. He was not a novice, 'i but 492 MADDOCK. but an old established and tried Christian, when he was called to teach and edify the church of God : And God blessed him with singular success. Very few ministers have been honoured with a larger spiritual progeny, to whom his name and memory will long be endeared. He came into the ministry with a single eye to God's glory, and left a lucrative business in the world, to make others, through grace, both rich and wise to salvation. If I were to speak all I know of him, and all I should be justified in speaking from a variety of papers before me, it might ap pear to some of my readers like exaggerated encomium. But I have no occasion (could I be so faithless) to exagge rate here : The naked truth, and even half the .truth, re specting this excellent man, would seem extraordinary, hot only to the world at large, but to many professors of religion, who had not entered so deeply as himself into the divine life, or been as mortified as he was to all but Jesus Christ and the things of God. He began his ministry as curate to the late memorable Mr. Hervey at Weston-Favel, continued with him to his death, and was promised by the patron to succeed him in one of his livings, but which, to say no more, was not fulfilled. He continued, however, at Weston-Favel till November 1760, from whence he went to the curacy of Weldon, where he continued but ten months; the gospel being too offensive there. His next ministrations were at Kettering, which he began on the 16th of August 1761 ; and here he continued till the 28th of June 1770. In his private and public life, during all this period, he met with many sorrows and afflictions. He had, indeed, without fight ings, and within fears. The malice and craft of some very base and wicked people, whom I pray God to pardon as I know Mr. Maddock did, contrived to remove this faith ful man at this time from his duty here. I will transcribe two or three passages from his Diary upon this occasion, only premising, that he was now in the fifty-eighth year, of his age, and had been married thirty-five years, and was bowed down with the weight of manifold sorrows and in firmities. " June 20, 1770. My troubles increase. This day I heard, that our late servant, to justify her leaving her place, had slandered me most vilely, and that it began to spread about the town." — " June 24. Nothing but trou ble have I had every day. My enemies, who are also ene mies to the gospel, have long waited for an opportunity. They seem greedily to embrace this with a devilish malice. Satan roars with all his might ; O Lord, support thy weak servant^ lADDOCt 493 servant, and let not the evil one prevail against me !" — " June 28. Being overcome with the fury of my ene mies, dispirited with evil reports, and the world fight ing under their prince against me, it shook my animal frame, and I fell sick : And I this day, cowardly, fearing man, and not trusting in my God, resigned my curacy, which was what my enemies wanted, and thereby they Obtained a great advantage over me ; for it was said, my resignation was an evidence of guilt, though the charge itself was not criminal, nor any, no not the least evidence Was given of the charge." — " July 12. My troubles have been very severe and very sharp ever since I resigned my curacy. A thousand new lies have been raised, &c. &c. &c. I never knew so lamentable a time. The Lord in mercy look upon me, and give me strength for my day." — I copy this from his Diary, that it may be noticed, how that no holiness of life nor any other considerations arising from age or profession can exempt the people of God' from the falsehood and malice of their enemies, and how circumspectly therefore and wisely they ought to walk to wards them that are without, that the rage of their enemies may -become its own reproof. Thus it was with Mr. Mad- dock; for two of his bitter enemies, who had been most active against him, afterwards relented, " behaved exceed-. ingly kind, and acknowledged, to him, that the reason of the whole was, that they could not endure the doctrine he had preached to them ; for, as to the slander, they never had believed a word of it, but only used it as an instrument against him." Mr. Maddock's note upon this is : " Now my enemies have confessed their enmity to God and his word, and to me for preaching it. O Lord, by this con fession, thou hast greatly eased my mind. Thou hast made mine enemies confess that they have persecuted thy ser vant out of malice ; but remember, I beseech thee, their blindness and ignorance, and pardon them freely for thy dear Son's sake." — This was all the revenge which, the meek man of God suffered himself to feel upon this try ing occasion. If the comnion enmity of such poor creatures were worth recording, I might have noticed theft their opposi tion began several years before, even from Mr. Maddock's first residence among them, and that they had early disco vered whose agents they were, and whose1 work they were doing, by accusing him to the bishop for not burying the dead, and for some other matters equally false and frivo lous, from which it was easy for him to justify himself by the' 494 MADDOCK. the numerous testimonies of his , parishioners, and to the bishop's entire satisfaction. The great and true offence was, that the congregations were large, and that the word of God ran and was glorified in a vast number of per sons, both in the town and in the country round about him. In September 1773, he removed to Guilsborough, and entered upon the curacy of Creaton, a neighbouring vil lage, which was the last stage of his ministry. Here he laboured in season and out of season, with all zeal and dili gence, for — twenty pounds a-year ! As to his great success in the ministry, I will refer the reader to his own account of it, in a letter to me, dated at Creaton, 16th July 1783, which I have placed in a note below:* And I could add a great deal more, if I had room, both * " You kindly chide me for not acquainting you with what God is doing among my people. My Dear Friend, It is a proud thing to men tion, or, perhaps, I might express myself better in saying, it is dange rous to talk of, lest it should stir up the pride that is naturally in our hearts. A man speaks very awkwardly when he talks of himself. But what I mentioned in my letter to Mr. Hill, seemed necessarily to flow from my subject. I told him some of my hearers subscribed, &c. [mean ing for some books.] This, therefore, shewed there was a work going for ward, otherwise I should have been silent, and said nothing of myself. But it is not, indeed it is not, a revival of the work at this day, as you mention : I bless God, and to his praise I desire to speak it, without boasting, it has always been so wherever he has sent me. When I came the first Sunday to this place, in October 1773, I had mot above twenty, which was the usual congregation. Even the sound of the Gospel was unknown in these parts. The very next Sunday, which *as the next time I preached, I could scarcely get into the church. In less than two years, viz. June 1775, I built the gallery, for the church would not contain the people. I preached one year at Naseby. God was pleased to work so mightily there, that in that time (for the rector would not let me preach any longer, because the church was crowded,) many were converted, how many God knows, but there were so many, that they built a meeting-house at ClipsOn, the next parish to Naseby, because Creaton was too far for them to attend constantly with their families. About three years ago I was ill six weeks with the gout: My people feared 1 should die; upon this they built a meeting house at Guilsborough, two miles from Creaton, and both these places are crowded. As soon as 1 lost these two congregations, my church was immediately rilled with new faces, who before could not get in, so that I never missed them ; and now I am so full, that every Sabbath very many- stand in the church-yard under the windows, because they cannot get in even into'the porches. But why should you urge me to say more ? It was the same at Kettering. It was the same twenty-four years ago, when I left Weston-Favel. Mr. Ryland had above a hundred of my people; and owns at this day, that his meeting is greatly indebted to my leaving his neighbourhood. There are four, if not more, who are now dissenting ministers, who were converted under me, and who, because they could not get ordination in our church, preach among that people. Three have stated meeting-houses, one in Huntingdon shire, one near Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, and one in Shropshire. This MADDOCK, 495 both from his own diary and memoranda, from his let ters to his and my valuable and ingenious friend the Rev. Mr. Moses Browne, and from his correspondence with my self. Some of these Letters, and especially those to Mr. Browne, breathe such a spirit of evangelical piety, that their publication would be a valuable treasure to the Chris tian world. But I must now, for the sake of brevity, proceed to give some account of the close of this valuable life. He began with his favourite theme at Creaton, — God is Love, 1 John iv. 16. And the love of God crowned his labours and his life at this favoured village. He was not attacked with any particular disease ; but, being advanced in years, and long oppressed with troubles, he seemed to fall into a gradual decay of nature, which, however, did not prevent him from the discharge of his duty, but for one Sunday before he died. The last performance of his ministerial office was a very laborious one. He preached twice, after twice reading prayers, administered the sacra ment to a numerous congregation, and buried a corpse. In this respect he fully enjoyed his desire of remaining here no longer than he could work for his Master and the good of souls. Upon asking his pious nephew, who attended him with medical assistance during his last illness, whether he saw any hope of his recovery, and upon being informed that it was very doubtful, he immediately uttered with thank fulness, " Glory be to GpD on high .'" As he was going up stairs a night or two before his death, his clerk wished him a good night, and added, ' the Lord comfort you, Sir !' He instantly replied, " I don't want comfort, John." Two of his people, who stood by his bed-side as he was dying, being in tears, and lamenting, he called to them and said, " You are poor soldiers indeed." He quitted this vale of tears on Sunday morning, about six o'clock, July 17, 1785, in the seventy-second year of his age, and was buried in the church-yard of Creaton, by his own desire, on the 21st of July following ; when a sermon was preached to a very large and much-affected congregation, by the Rev. Mr. Scott of Olney, upon Acts xiii. 36. His person was tall and rather slender ; but his aspect was both venerable and agreeable. Though tried with many This hath God wrought! But if it is boasting, remember,, you have! compelled me to it, and therefore I hope you will pardon me. But, blessed be God, the best of it is, The work is not yet at an end." 496 M A D D 0 C K. many and severe afflictions, very few men possessed greater cheerfulness and even pleasantry. He Was a man of parts, had much wit, and obtained (for he did not cease to study even in age) a considerable share of learning. In his friendships he was benevolent, affectionate, and sincere. No man could more tenderly pity the infirmities of othersj or be more,sensibly alive to his own. Though blest with great attainments and usefulness, he was clothed with hu mility; and he died as he had lived, with all the placid and gentle meekness of a Christian. His doctrine distilled as the dew upon the hearers' souls ; and there was an unaffected pathos, as well as simplicity, in all his manner and lan guage, which no unfeeling arts or pomp of phrase, could possibly give. He studied not to please men, but, as a faithful steward of the heavenly mysteries, to distribute to every man his proper portion in due season. Feeling evidently what he delivered to others, he caught both the attention and the hearts of his auditors, insomuch that it was no unusual thing to see the tears gently trickling down those faces whose souls were inflamed with the love of Jesus, described and recommended by this holy man of God to humble and broken-hearted sinners. What melting expressions would he use upon this solemn. and delightful subject; arid how would the sacred energy seem to steal Upon his very soul, and fill the bosoms, and cheer the spirits, of listening multitudes ! He was as an an^ gel speaking from heaven, and warning and exhorting the children of God, diligently to press after the crown laid up for them there. 1 could say much more re specting this excellent person, whose friendship I thought an honour to myself when living, and whose memory will ever be dear to me while I have a heart to feel. But I will only add, lest I should be suspected of a warm par tiality, that I shall bless God, if this memoir of his life, as well as the other accounts of gracious worthies which fill these volumes, may be productive of usefulness to my readers, and effectually urge them, through divine aid,; to become followers of ' the noble army of martyrs,' and of those other saints who now inherit the promises. Amen, 497 CONCLUSION; x\S the History of particular Persons always throws light upon the age in which they lived, it is presumed, that the preceding memoirs also, which relate to eminent men in the church of Christ, from the sera of the Refor mation, (and a great number more might have been pro duced, if our limits had allowed) not only discover their own characters, but the characters of the several times in which they appeared. Possibly, therefore, these accounts will be not only edifying to the faith, but instructive to the mind of our serious readers^ and of those younger per sons especially, who may wish to be acquainted with our ecclesiastical history. The intelligent Christian may perceive, that we have studiously avoided all undue predelictions to any particu lar party or profession, knowing that the graCe of Gjod is confined to no party, and entailed upon no one profession of Christianity in the world. These memoirs, if they prove any thing, abundantly prove this truth; And though the author must naturally have his predelictions and passions, or he would not be a fallen son of fallen Adam, yet he can truly say, that he has watched over these infirmities of human nature, and has been above all things desirous, that the glory of God may be seen to tri umph over the narrowness of man, and that the grace of God in his most excellent servants may also appear to be one and the same blessing, notwithstanding the prejudices of birth and education, which do indeed strike the mind With much stronger impressions than perhaps any of us are easily apt to imagine. In reviewing this work, our readers may probably per^- ceive, that some of the following considerations present themselves to the mind, and that they are justified by many particular circumstances in these lives, as Well as by the general detail of our English history. - 1. The Reformation of our established church from popery proceeded chiefly Upon, what are justly enough called, The Doctrines of Grace, in opposition to a variety of corrupt opinions, and to a greater variety of antiscrip- tural superstitions which had been grounded upon them.* Those * See this point unanswerably demonstrated by the late Mr. Toplady, in his " Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism of the Church of Eng- " land;" in two volumes, 8vo. VOL. IV. 2 K $98 CONCLUSION. Those doctrines were not novelties, (as some of the pa pists affected to treat them) because they were not only as ancient as divine revelation itself, but were also maintain ed more or less in all ages of the Christian church; though, for some centuries before the Reformation, but by com paratively a few scattered persons,, who shone as stars amidst the gloom of ignorance which generally pervaded Europe. The most considerable body of people professing Scrip tural and unsophisticated divinity, were the Albigenses in the south of France, and the Waldenses in Piedmont. The latter name, however, became the general one, upon the great spread of their doctrine, which was one and the same after the junction of the pious Peter Waldo or Valdo, about the year 1170, from whom this appellation was taken. From these real Christians, living for the most part in mountainous and almost inaccessible places because of their enemies, was derived the primary root of all the subse quent reformations.* Their origin is carried up very high, into the purest ages of the church. It is certain, that a Romish council at Tours, in 1163, condemned them as maintainors of an heresy long since sprung up in the territory of Thoulouse, i. e. among those called Albigenses. " This sect, says Cave, from Reinerius, (a monkish ad versary, who wrote against them about 1254) soon in creased to an immense number of followers, and prevailed every where ; and some have affirmed, that it existed in the days of Pope Sylvester, [i. e. in theyear 314] or rather from the apostolic age itself, and that there is no country [in Europe] into which it hath not spread itself."-f- It is not improbable, that they were descendents of those ex cellent Christians, who wrote from Lyons in France the very remarkable epistle to the Asian churches in the se cond century after Christ.J They continued likewise, as well as spread ; for when Luther and the other reformers appeared in the sixteenth century, the descendants of these persecuted people (who were called by abundance of nicknames ||) held a cordial correspondence with them, astonished on both sides to find the closeness of their similarity. Hence Gretzer the Je suit * See their history and principles at large in Fox's Acts and Mon. un der the reigns of King Henry II. and VIII. Spanheim's Hist. Christ. p. 1595, Sec. Sleiden, 1. xvi.. Usser. de success, et statu eccl. c. viii. -j- Hist. Liter, in sa:c. Wald. J Euseb, 1. v. e. 2. Fox's Acts, &c. Spanh. Hist. Christ, saec. ii, . || Bower's Hist, of the Popes, vol. vi. p. 129. Baselii Snip, Belg. p. 127,' Spanh. Hi=,t. Christ, col, 1597. C O N C Ltf S 1 0 N. 499 suit called them Calvinianorum atavi, the. great ancestors of the Calvinists. Of the most remarkable individuals, who supported the great truths of the gospel with more or less clearness from the days of the fathers, (which can not properly be carried down lower at the utmost than the sixth or seventh century, though Scultetus* goes somewhat lower) several respectable names may be adduc ed in successive ages ; but, in this place, their names only ; though their history deserves the amplest consider ation. The venerable Bede may stand among the firsts who flourished, A. D. 710. Alchwin, or Alcuinus, ano ther Englishman, and Bede's disciple, A. D. 770. Cle ment the Scot, and Adalbert of France, both in this cen tury. The famous Gotteschalcus, whose life Archbishop Usher has written, lived about the year 840. Remigius, Archbishop of Lyons, about 850. Bertram, or Ratrams, 850. Florus, the Deacon, sirnamed Magister, in the same, century. Berengarius, 1040. Waltramus, 1090. Tanchelinus, 1115. Arnulphus, Archbishop of Lyons, 1120. Peter Valdo, 1170. William Cornelius of Ant werp, 1 1 70. Wal ter Mapes, 1 1 75. The celebrated Grost- . head, Bishop of Lincoln, 1230. Matthew Paris; 1250. Arnoldus de villa nova, 1260. Gulielmus de Si amore, Simon Jornalensis. Godfridus de fontibus. Henricus de Gandavo. These four were friends and contemporaries, of great note in their day, 1260 anrl,1290; Dantes, 1301. Michael Cesenas, 1316. The profound Bradwardine^ Archbishop of Canterbury, born about 1290. Nicholas Lyra, 1320, of whom it was said, Si Lyra non lyr asset, Lutherus non saltasset. Marsilius of Padua, 1328. WiU liam Occam, 1330. John Gandon: Luitpold: And. Lan- den: Ulric Hangenor: And. de Castro: Johannes Bardie- anus, Or Buridanus: about the same time. Taulerus, 1350; Gregorius, Or Georgius Ariminenses, 1360. William Friesen of Brabant. Richard Fitz-Ralph, Archbishop of Armagh, 1360. Chaucer, 1360. Bernhard Westerrode* 1365. Petrarch; 1365. Gerhard de Groot, or Magnus, 1370. Matthias of Paris, 1370. Militisius. Wickliffe, 1375. John Ruysbroch, 1384. Gerhard Zerbolt, 1390. John Froissard: Nicholas Orem: Johannes de rupe scis- sa: Conrad Hager: Gerhard Ridder: Peter de Corbaria: Johannes de Poliaco: Johannes de Castalione: Frances-de Arcatara: These two last Were burnt for the truth: Jo hannes de Rochetelayda, or Hayabalus: Peter de Cogne- riis: * Med. Theol. Patr. in Aphorism. 500 CONCLUSION. riis : All about this century. Brute, 1393. Thorpe : Purvey: Lord Cobbam, 1413. John Huss, 1415. Je rome of Prague, 1416. John Gerson, 1418. Nicholas de Clemangiis; 1430. Thomas a Eempis, 1450. Frede- ricus ab Heylo, 1455. Jacobus de Gruitrode, 1457. Her man Ryd de Reen, 1467. Dionysius Rychelius, 1467. John de Wesalia, l479. The learned Weselus of Gron- ingen, called Lux Mundi, 1480. His friends Rodolphus Agricola, and Alexander Hegius. Savoranola, 1490. Pi- cus, Earl of Mirandula, 1490. Luther, 1520.* These are some of the naost remarkable persons, differing more or less from theRomish church, and maintaining some or other capital points of the truth, till the great sera of the Reformation : -f- To recite those which might be mention ed after that period, would be endless. Some of the most extraordinary or valuable may be found in these volumes. Our reformers, some of whose names give honour to the first volume of this work, in following the labours of these great men to clear away the rubbish of popish su perstition, diseovered, and by degrees displayed the long concealed foundations of the gospel. What these foun dations are, may be seen by our articles and homilies, which, as the most valuable bequest next to the Bible, they set forth and established for Christian concord in the year 1552. It is impossible to deny, that our ecclesiastical for mularies for doctrine and worship are uniformly drawn upon the principles of free grace, to the utter exclusion of all merit in man : And it is equally impossible to deny, that the fathers of the English church were so generally in those sentiments, that any person who ventured to as sert the opposite doctrines either in pulpits or universi ties, was considered as a greater monster of singularity than of late years any preacher could be, who might ven ture, agreeable to his oath before God and the church, to maintain those fundamentals. Our articles have been nicknamed Calvinistic, merely because the excellent Cal vin generally maintained the same truths; but this is do ing him, great and good as he was, or any other man, too much honour: It is to Calvin's happiness and glory that he followed these principles, which should rather be called evangelic, * Fl. Illvr. Catal. test. Brown's Fasciculus, &c. Basel. Snip. Belg. '.'ave's Hist. Liter. f What the famous Whitaker said of the fathers to the papists, is equal ly applicable to most of the above writers: In maximis judiciis toti sunt' tustri, in levioribus varii, in paucissimis ac minutissimis vestri. CONCLUSION. 501 vvangelic, because they are derived from the Gospel itself, and in fact are coeval with the system of salvation re vealed from the beginning of the world. 2. The unhappy dissension, which publicly * militated against our ecclesiastical establishment very early in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was not founded upon the grand doctrines contained in the Articles, for upon these there appeared to be among protestants an almost univer sal agreement both at heme and abroad; -f but upon ha bits, ceremonies, and discipline among churchmen, which, all must aljow, are by no means the essentials of religion, and, I believe, were never pretended to be so, even by the disputants themselves. Hooker himself says concerning rites and ceremonies; that " they are in truth for the greatest part such silly things, that every easiness doth make them hard to be disputed of in a serious manner J." The reader will allow me to give as short and candid an account, as I am able, of these disagreements which arose among men, who, on both sides of the question, were for the most part eminently pious and learned, and perhaps as much so, with respect to the things of God, as any who have adorned the church in later times. During Queen Mary's persecution, many of our English exiles imbibed at Geneva and other places, a great regard for the discipline and methods of some foreign protestant churches, which had been set up by several excellent men, according to their own particular exigencies and situa tions, without meaning any dislike to those adopted by their protestant brethren in other circumstances. Some of these met with other English exiles at Frankfort, who were for the late liturgy and discipline established at home by King Edward ; and these two small parties could not in this situation agree. What men have been accus tomed to in religion, as well as in all other things, and especially what they have been happy in using, it is natu ral * I say publicly; because there were some more private debates about the habits in the time of King Edward VI. as may be seen in the lives of Bishop Hooper, Ridley, Rogers, &c. When, however, ihe trying hour of persecution came, these good men lamented that their time had been so ill employed, as in such kind of disagreements among real brethren. See, especially, Ridley's Letter to Hooper in Fox's Acts, &c. ¦J- In proof of this, see the valuable Syntagma confessionum, contain ing the Articles of almost all the Protestaut churphes: printed in 1613. $ Ded. to Vth Book of Ecclesiastical Polity, 502 CONCLUSION. ral they should prefer for themselves, and earnestly re commend to others. The great piety and worth of the men * who formed the foreign protestant establishments, were certainly great recommendations to the establish ments themselves. And, therefore, some of the exiles, who were in the sentiments of these divines, being freed from popish persecutions, upon their return to England, thought our Reformation would never be perfect, till their brethren likewise had adopted all which they themselves had seen carried on so happily and successfully abroad. It must be owned, that they did not enough consider the dif ference of people, of state, of numbers, and extent. A small church, like a small territory, may be governed well by a system, which might throw a larger into all manner of confusion. They quarrelled, therefore, first with the clerical habits : And if the dispute could have ended by concession, it surely is but of little consequence what garments men might wear. Let every thing be done decently and in order ; and then, whether ministers wear black coats or white, gowns or cloaks, bands or no bands (which are a modern invention of happy uniformi ty), surplices or none at all ; they may join with their people, or with their brethren at large, in supplicating the divine blessing, and may expect to find it. But, as one difference unhappily generates another, the ceremonies be came the next subject of open disputation ; and, then quickly afterwards, the discipline or episcopal establish ment of the church itself. There were various opinions arid wishes, upon all these points, among those who professed their discontent. And O that a veil of ob scurity could be thrown oyer the many animosities among good and excellent men, which these outward affairs oc casioned in our land, to the diversion and scorn of the papists, and to' the disquietude and spiritual hindrance of the protestant world ! It may candidly be believed, that these otherwise valuable persons did not foresee the evils which might and did ensue from these litigations (though they really -were foretold above sixty years before they came * In honour of the moderation and Catholicism of the great foreign Protestants, it must be mentioned, that they have uniformly expressed much veneration for our English establishment, and a hearty desire of fraternal concord. The learned reader may see many testimonies of this kind, collected by Spanheim in his Misc. Sacr. Antiq. col. 1244, &c. And onr greatest and best divines here have formerly declarep the same kindness and respect for the evangelical churches abroad. CONCLUSION. 503 came to pass),-" Evils, which were then more easy for them to prevent, than for their posterity to remedy." Let me only add as a matter of truth, without meaning to give offence, that there were some great faults on both. sides ; first, because they quarrelled, about indifferent things: and next, because in their heat neither party were .properly disposed to yield in any respect or to comply with the other. If the churchmen enforced the legal discipline with the arm of power, some of the puritans pushed their favourite platform in the spirit of perverseness, and were as wanting in moderation of language, as the others possibly-could be in mildness and forbearance. Both par ties urged every thing to the extreme, instead of seeking, what wise and good men above all others should seek, some ¦happy medium in which they might join. Whatever unr -reasonable was desired on one side, or unreasonably re- tained on the other, cool men might have debated with •decency, and gracious men have concluded with harmo ny. They would have rendered in such an event, the opposition of mere opposers quite inexcusable. It is always easy indeed to find matters of separation ; but it requires more than natural skill (though it be natural interest and happiness) to discover the point of union, and a very great measure of Christian patience and self- denial to concur, therein, when it is found. 3. When parties were thus unhappily formed, the warm censures on both sides soon widened the breach, and gave birth to distinguishing names. Those who adhered to the foreign discipline were called Precisians and Puritans, which, in a good sense, are titles of honour to the chih dren of God, but, in the evil one, were sounds of op position to an ecclesiastical constitution. After a season, many moderate churchmen who valued the essentials of religion above all forms, and who therefore could not join in the common vehemence, and much less in the de parture from the great common principles which afterr wards followed, were also dignified by these denominations. At this time, however, there was a general agreement in all the great principles of the gospel. The dispute (it may be said) was not about the food, but about the dish which should hold it. At length, towards the end of the reign of King James the First, other principles began to creep in. Their vigour, if not their rise in our church,are generally and justly imputed to Dr. Laud. This prelate, the son of a clothier at Reading, had raised himself by the patronage of the famous Duke of Buckingham, to the direction 504 CONCLUSION. direction of church affairs ; and being himself an Armi- nian and full of his order, he took care to introduce such men and measures, as might promote his designs of dis seminating his principles, and of exalting the splendour of the hierarchy. This ambitious and haughty spirit did infinite mischief, and farther enlarged the breaches, which were but too wide already. He was the first who indulged the humour of setting the church above her own articles, and of bringing her nearer to the suspicious neighbour hood of Rome : And he was assisted in this by a ltomish renegado, the Archbishop of Spalato, who first gave the name of doctrinal Puritans to those truest sons of the church, who abhorred Arminianism. His inventions and ceremonies might have been pitied for their nonsense, if they had not deserved hatred from the rigour with which he enforced them. But, though rigid in the idle adjust ments of bowing to the altar and at the name of Jesus, and in turning the people's faces to the east while the creed was repeating, with such like insipid trifles, he was lax enough in more important things. The Book of Sports, and the prohibition of afternoon sermons on the Lord's Days, are a striking specimen of the Arminian mo rality. I would not mean to say, that Laud himself was an immoral man, in the common use of the term ; but lie certainly had neither the spirit of an humble Christian, nor the temper of a true father in the church of God : Nor indeed had he the learning and other abilities of a great divine. His political aim (for it surely cannot be called religious) was to form a reunion or coalition with Rome ; and to accomplish this design it was necessary to remove that capital barrier, the xxxix Articles, so long and so firmly established by law. If that proud church could have submitted in some points, he seemed to endeavour after such concessions in ours, as might draw her as near to the other as the times might allow. It would have been a more gracious pursuit to have studied the concord of the protestant churches, than to haye formed such world ly combinations of ecclesiastical pride. Church union, as well as all other, is indisputably good ; but not upon the demolition of essential truths, nor upon such gross corruptions, as put to hazard the very vitals of Chris tianity. 4. During all these innovations and distractions, a great majority of^ excellent men were found in and adhered to the establishment and its form of sound doctrines ; but as such were removed by death, their places were care- folly CONCLUSION. 505 fully filled by persons who were otherwise minded. Among the former, Usher, Davenant, Hall, Bedell, Ward, Willet, and several others, are names to be remembered, with the most venerating affection, for whatever can be found gracious or valuable among men. Laud and his associates, to their lasting infamy, not only opposed churchmen of their complexion, but seemed fond to have them stigmatized with the names of Puritans and Calvi- nists, and set them up as marks of odium and contempt. Where people cannot reason, they are often able to rail. On the other hand, the parties, who had divided from the church in discipline, warmly espoused her principal ar ticles; and increased their friends and abettors even among the moderate churchmen, who looked upon Laud and his friends as persons who wese subverting the church itself, or who certainly were introducing princi ples which could only end in the subversion of those al ready established. Many of these Puritans were men of great parts and indisputable piety. If they wanted mo deration, tlie whole age wanted it too : It was a day of heat and contention, which the inflammatory spirit of Laud was very ill calculated to cool. Hildersham, Dod, Charnock, Sibbes, Reynolds, Manton, Poole, with many others, are names, which would do honour to any church or country. 5. In the midst of these ecclesiastical agitations, the providence of God, in justice to the sins of the nation (at the head of which I reckon the ungrateful abuse of the reformation, and our general unthankfulness for so great a mercy,) permitted the rise of those political animosi ties, which ended in a dreadful civil war, and in the over throw of the whole constitution both in church and state. The popular leaders, who were generally averse to Laud and his measures, espousing the party which opposed the established discipline, and which was now grown strong by accessions of churchmen themselves, through the increase of stupid or dangerous innovations, mixed, and increased the evil by their adoption of these religious dissensions. On the other side, the court was at no pains to concili ate; or, at least, some of those who followed its views, used all imaginable means, whatever was their design, to aggravate the public distractions. Lord Falkland, Sir Edward Hyde (afterwards the great Earl of Clarendon), with a few others, were illustrious exceptions. To its misfortune or disgrace it must also be said, that most of the profligate and unprincipled people of the age became of 506 CONCLUSION. of its party ; and these endeavoured to honour their own li centiousness, by opposing it to the severe and exact deport ment of those whom they seemed glad to condemn as their enemies. But (as Baxter, who was an eye-witness to these facts, justly observes) it was the ruin of the king and the church, that this immoral party was encouraged by the great leaders in the country against the others ; as it might very naturally have been expected. " The de bauched rabble through the land, (says he) emboldened by the gentry on the king's side, and seconded by the common soldiers of his army, took all that were called Puritans for their enemies : And though some of the king's gentry and superior officers were so civil, that they would do no such thing, yet that was no security to the coun try, while the multitude did what they list: So that if any one was noted for a strict and famous preacher, or for a man of a precise and pious life, he was either plundered or abused, and in danger of his life : So that if a man did but pray in his family, or were but heard to repeat;"a ser mon or sing a psalm, they presently cried out, Rebels, Roundheads ; and all their money and goods that were portable proved guilty, how innocent soever they were themselves. I suppose this was kept from the knowledge of the king, and perhaps of many sober Lords of his Council : For few could come near them ; (and it is the fate of such not to believe evil of those that they think are for them, nor good of those that they think are against them.) But, upon my certain knowledge, this was it that filled the armies and garrisons of the parliament with sober pious men."* The weight which these gave in the scale, was decisive : And a melancholy crisis ensu ed, contrary to the wishes of good and moderate people of all denominations. So dangerous a thing is it to put any cause to issue upon the sword, which is usually swayed by men, who feel their own consequence too much upon such occasions, and who have generally motives enough of their own to use it for themselves ! 6. Under the usurpation, there was scarce the exis tence of a regular establishment either civil or ecclesiasti cal ; and it was with some difficulty, that there was such a thing agreed upon as a stated ministry. Where all are allowed to act, and where the number is permitted to* stand for the wisdom of heads, it is not to be expected, that any cordial or extensive agreement can ensue. How ever, the Arminian system was generally out of counter nance ; * Baxter's Life, B. i. p. 44. CONCLUSION. 507 nance ; and the doctrines of grace, which had been long received by the best men both in and out of the late esta blishment, were commonly maintained under a variety of disciplines, and in all the confusion of parties. At length, through necessity, an orderly ministry was in creasing in number and weight, though opposed by the wilder sectaries, who were averse to human obligations of all kinds. Religion was certainly kept up by the ruling powers, let their motives have been what they may ; and, by the preaching of the doctrines of grace freely and widely, a vast company of people throughout the land lived and appeared in a manner that did honour to their profession. 7. When the restoration took place, the old establish ment of the church revived with it. At this time, if moderation had possessed some great managers in affairs instead of revenge, and if the love of true religion had been more operative than the views of worldly interest and patronage, there was a most favourable opportunity of healing our former breaches, and of bringing into union a vast majority of good men throughout the nation. But the successors of Laud, some of whom inherited his tem per and principles with his influence, were too high in their notions for these humilities ; though the peace of church and state, and the salvation of souls, were deep ly concerned in them. Archbishop Sheldon and Bishop Morley, with some others, have the disgrace of continu ing distractions, which many, if not all, the most eminent men for true piety and learning, both in and out of the establishment, would most gladly have healed. Reproach, calumny, and persecution arose instead of concord ; as though the land had not already been glutted with these disorders. It became too a fashion to revile the dissen ters, without a wish to reclaim them ; and, because they generally maintained the doctrines of grace, some incon siderate churchmen, full of Arminianism and its spirit, abused these likewise; strangely forgetting their own oaths and subscriptions to the articles, which directly assert them. Nothing could exceed the virulent illiberality of some clergymen at this time. It is matter of grief to think of these things ; and I do not regret, that I have so little room to recite them. Among the people at large, it is astonishing, how dreadfully ungodliness came in like a flood : The wickedness of the court was a spring, which supplied a very broad and strong current of immo ralities throughout the land. To avoid the least appear ances 508 CONCLUSION. ances of puritanism, men frequently ran into the most avowed licentiousness. Piety became ridiculous, if not suspected of disloyalty : And it became an odd test of orthodoxy among many people to vie in drinking bum pers to church and state ; as if drunkenness and debau chery were just criteria of loyalty, or could properly shew that men had found out the right way of salva tion. All methods were used to decry vital and expe rimental religion. The inimitable wit and scurrility of Hudibras gave point to the malice of the dull, and (un der pretence of exposing some undeniable hypocrisies) fur nished the irreligious and the ignorant with many an ar row likewise against that, which their interest might make them wish to be untrue. Thus godliness, abused by hy pocrisy, was condemned altogether for hypocrisy itself. About this time also arose a set of learned and specula tive theologists, who adopted a vagtie new method of in culcating the Christian religion. They would be neither Calvinists nor Arminians, positively ; but churchmen they were, though they rather dictated to than followed the church upon the most essential doctrines. Burnet, who admired them, has given us an account of their plan in the " history of his own time."* They were rationa lists more than humble disciples of Christ, and, from the great laxness of their principles, received the wild, long title of latitudinarians. In order to understand the Scrip tures, they recommended the study of Plato, Tully, and Plotin, who either never heard of those Scriptures, or were enemies to their truths. This self-taught sect, there* fore, instead of insisting upon the necessity of the Holy Spirit's influence to know the things of God, urged the powers of a corrupted, blinded, and fallen reason, which deserved no other name from the apostle than that of the carnal mind, and which can neither know God aright, nor truly desire to know him. On the pther hand, they treated all the operations of grace as mere cant and enthusiasm ; or those among them who softened their language upon this subject, represented those operations as so inscrutably secret, as to be entirely unknown. They should have considered, in their pretended reasonings, that an unknown operation in heart and life amounts to none at all. From this spring, much of our present modern di vinity (and it is justly enough so called) took its rise — a divinity, which boasts of corrupted reason for its au thor, * Vol. i. p. 319, CONCLUSION. 509 thor, and which leads to a listless undevout practice as its end. But I need not dwell upon this unhappy topic : A learned and pious author, hath considered it before me*. Suffice it to say, that, between this unscriptural profession on the one hand, and the encouraged licentiousness of the times on the other, religion received a blow in Eng land, which it hath not recovered to this day. Arminian ism began the attack, and this rational and hypothetical system, introducing as auxiliaries many other bold and specious theories, carried it on, till there was scarce a de cent appearance of godliness throughout the land. From this epoch, we may trace almost all our current hetero doxies and corruptions ; insomuch, that we are noted for infidelity and immoralities all over Europe, to the derision of our popish neighbours, and to the scandal of the refor mation itself. Family-religion began to be laid aside, espe cially among the higher ranks, for fear of suspicions and nicknames ; and hence the chapels of our nobility, raised by pious ancestors as the most august apartments in their houses, became the repositories of lumber, or were turned into places of convivial entertainment. Many of the old country seats throughout England can shew these melan choly monuments of departed piety. 8. Nor were the dissenters themselves without blame. It is an unpleasant task, in writing of these times, that one cannot utter truth without censure. They also had their differences ; and those who were angry with church men for discord and persecution, found it difficult to be at peace among themselves. Dr. Owen and Mr. Baxter had suffered so much by disputes, that it gave their ene mies an advantage, when they could not heal them among their friends. Upon the accession of King James the Se cond to the throne, his bigotted violences brought the churchmen and dissenters somewhat nearer together, but rather more as politicians than as Christians; for when the political occasion was removed, their Christian affections abated too easily towards each other. In short, no saluta ry use was made of that crisis for a more cordial union. 9. The dissenters, tolerated and favoured by the Revo lution, grew at length indifferent to, or despaired of this union. It must be allowed, that the motives to it were rather lessened than increased, not only from the old dis pute * See " Gibbon's Account of Christianity considered," by the-- Rer. Mr. M:lner, p. 238, &e. 510 CONCLUSION. pute of a powerful, hierarchy, but from the inundation of Arminianism, which with the rationalism above-mentioned, naturally bearing along a vast colluvies of corrupt opi nions with them, almost overspread the establishment. The ignorance and irreligion also of many of the esta blished clergy, gave great and just cause of offence. The dissenters were, besides, too much taken up "with their own particular differences, about this time, to think of more extensive agreements ; and this afforded very great grief to the most excellent men among them. Nor was concord at all prevalent under this reign in the church. The Revolution had given birth to a distinction between " High Church" and " Low Church," in which there was scarce a grain of real godliness, but an immense har vest of political and ecclesiastical controversy. — It is to be wished, that matters of this kind could be consigned to everlasting oblivion. It is right to know them only as the rocks, on which so many persons have suffered the ship wreck, if not of their faith, yet certainly of brotherly affection and Christian concord. 10. Upon these complications of principle, our affairs seemed to subside ; the dissenters maintaining the most distinguishing doctrines of the church, and too many churchmen preaching, living, and acting against them, yet subscribing, swearing to, and reading them, as the neces sary passports to preferment. Free graee sounded from the desk, and free will from the pulpit ; and both within the space of an hour. Thus hath the matter continued, more or less, till this very day, with respect to the two parties ; or, if there be any alteration, we* are sorry to say, that it is not for the better. If dryness has increased among them who held the truth, certainly darkness has not lessened among those who departed from it. We have had men of great learning indeed ; yet learning is not grace, but most commonly, when it is not in subjection to grace, renders the possessors more proud and selfish, and less dependent upon the divine blessing, than they probably would have been without it. In this view, there fore, it loses its best advantage. 11. About the year 1740, or rather before, it pleased God to revive his own work in the midst of the land, and, by the instrumentality of a few obscure and despised men, to effect a surprising alteration in sentiment and practice. As the prevalent heterodoxy in the establish ment took its rise at Cambridge, so this lively promulga tion of the old truths and ancient principles of the church CONCLUSION. 511 church of England, with all its happy consequences, be gan in the University of Oxford. It is an honour, which (notwithstanding some poor proceedings that I wish- to bury in silence) she ought never to be ashamed of. She owns, with pleasure, the spreading of the Gospel from her quarters formerly under the name of Wickliffe ; and Hea ven has owned, with its power, the renewed declarations of its truths, within her learned seat, in these our days. Since the date just mentioned, many ministers have ap peared in the establishment, who have been enabled to shew the life and influence of that Divinity which de serves to be called old ; because its fabric is almost as an cient as time itself, and because it derives its plan from the very councils of eternity. Some of their names adorn- the present volume. Multitudes have been awakened by their ministrations to a life of faith and holiness ; while it remains to be proved, that ever one soul was brought to the knowledge of God and the love of Christ, by all the philosophical, ethic, or rational argumentations of our speculative reasoners, since their first attempt in the' reign of Charles the Second to the present time. On the- contrary, it were to be wished, that our people had not been reasoned^ out of the plain scriptural system of their religion into the very practices of the grossest infidelity. This fact will, however, abundantly prove, that all true understanding in divine things is only to be attained through the Holy Scriptures, which were revealed for the express purpose of making men wise unto salvation, be cause they could not be made wise to that end in any other way. Blessed 'be God, this work of grace is yet go ing on ; and the power of religion has also had its revi val among many of our dissenting brethren. May we ever contend with them upon this ground, viz. who shall seek most the honour of Christ our Master, and who shall work with the most zeal and industry for the salvation of souls. This is a dispute which may be carried on with affection, and which may happily terminate in our mutual profit and pleasure. It might seem invidious in me to notice any irregula rities now existing in the religious world ; but it cannot be improper to observe the present lenity and moderation of government both in church and state, for which as men and as Christians we cannot be too thankful, and which as real patriots and believers we should be careful not to abuse. If we are wise protestants, not only we, but even the sound dissenters among us, must rejoice in the preser vation 512 . CONCLUSION. vation of our establishment, which is the acknowledger! bulwark of protestantism, and whose articles are (as Dr. Hammond himself asserted) " the hedge between us and the papacy." May all attempts to pull down either be perpetually defeated ; for it is to be feared, that a new compilation of articles, and a new arrangement of our theological system, would no more speak the language of true protestantism, than the decrees of the Council of Trent exhibit the doctrines of Jesus Christ. If, in the judgment of God, so great a curse should everbefal us as an Arian or Arminian set of articles for subscription, it will become the indispensable duty of every real Christian to abhor such an establishment, and to increase the num ber of dissenters. 12. Blessed be God : however men and constitutions may vary, His Truth shall stand to the end of the world, and His Gospel till the last of the redeemed is ready for glory. There is a Spiritual Church, consisting of Christ's faithful people, and of them only, gathered per haps out of all denominations; and this church, founded on the everlasting Rock, is impregnable to every assault of its enemies. No weapon formed against it, can pros per. This cbnsideration should afford every true believer great consolation, under all dark appearances, either in visible churches or in the world. It is God's cause, and not man's : The arm, therefore, which supports it, is om nipotent and divine. The Lord of Hosts is with us (may this church of the first-born triumph I) the God of Jacob is our refuge ! ' And may God, whose goodness extends from age to age, and whose favour is the life of souls, bless and unite this Holy Church at all times in Spirit and in Truth, that it may be established and prosper upon earth, and that Many of all nations may flow unto it. May discord and every work of the flesh be far removed from among brethren ; and may they love, and study to love more and more, all of all denominations, who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity. May the salvation of the Redeemer spread farther and wider by all manner of holy means, till the kingdoms of the world become the kingdoms of the Lord and of his Christ, and till every tongue shall con fess with joy, The Lord God Omnipotent bei&neth ! Amen. F I N I Si YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 05454 7253